THE  A 

CAMP 

GIRLS 


IN  THE 
WOODS 


STEWART 


THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  ILLINOIS 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 
SERIES 

1.  THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  IN  THE  WOODS 

2.  THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  ON  THE  FARM 

3.  THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  AT  LONG  LAKE 

4.  THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

5.  THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  ON  THE  MARCH 

5.  THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS  AT  THE  SEASHORE 


CAMi>  Fire  Girls  Series,  Volume  I 

The  Camp  Fire  Girls 
in  the  Woods 

or 

Bessie  King’s  First  Council  Fire 

by 

JANE  L.  STEWART 


The  Saalfield  Publishing  Company 
Chicago  Akron,  Ohio  New  York 


Copyright,  1914 
By 

The  Saalfield  Publishing  Company 


The  Camp  Fire  Girls 


In  The  Woods 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  ESCAPE 

“Now  then,  you,  Bessie,  quit  your  loafin’  and 
get  them  dishes  washed!  An’  then  you  can  go 
out  and  chop  me  some  wood  for  the  kitchen  fire ! ’ ’ 

The  voice  was  that  of  a slatternly  woman  of 
middle  age,  thin  and  complaining.  She  had  come 
suddenly  into  the  kitchen  of  the  Hoover  farm- 
house and  surprised  Bessie  King  as  the  girl  sat 
--  • resting  for  a moment  and  reading. 

Bessie  jumped  up  alertly  at  the  sound  of  the 
• voice  she  knew'  so  well,  and  started  nervously 
i toward  the  sink. 

“Yes,  ma’am,”  she  said.  “I  was  awful  tired — 
an’  1 wanted  to  rest  a few  minutes.” 

“Tired!”  scolded  the  woman.  “Land  knows 
you  ain’t  got  nothin’  to  carry  on  so  about!  Ain’t 
v you  got  a good  home?  Don’t  we  hoard  you  and 
give  you  a good  bed  to  sleep  in?  Didn’t  Paw 
Y Hoover  give  you  a nickel  for  yourself  only  last 
week?” 

3 


fT': 


4 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“Yes — an’  you  took  it  away  from  me  soon’s 
you  found  it  out,”  Bessie  flashed  hack.  There 
were  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  she  went  at  her  dishes, 
and  Mrs.  Hoover,  after  a minute  in  which  she 
glared  at  Bessie,  turned  and  left  the  kitchen,  mut- 
tering something  about  ingratitude  as  she  went. 

As  she  worked,  Bessie  wondered  why  it  was 
that  she  must  always  do  the  work  about  the  house 
when  other  girls  were  at  school  or  free  to  play. 
But  it  had  been  that  way  for  a long  time,  and  she 
could  think  of  no  way  of  escaping  to  happier 
conditions.  Mrs.  Hoover  was  no  relation  to  her 
at  all.  Bessie  had  a father  and  mother,  but  they 
had  left  her  with  Mrs.  Hoover  a long  time  before, 
and  she  could  scarcely  remember  them,  but  she 
heard  about  them,  her  father  especially,  whenever 
she  did  something  that  Mrs.  Hoover  didn’t  like. 

“Take  after  your  paw— that’s  what  you  do, 
good-f or-notliin ’ little  hussy!”  the  farmer’s  wife 
would  say.  “Leavin’  you  here  on  our  hands  when 
he  went  away— an’  promisin’  to  send  board  money 
for  you.  Bid,  too,  for  ’bout  a year— an’  since 
then  never  a cent!  I’ve  a mind  to  send  you  to 
the  county  farm,  that  I have!” 

“Now,  maw,”  Paw  Hoover,  a kindly,  toil- 
hardened  farmer,  would  say  when  he  happened  to 
overhear  one  of  these  outbursts,  “Bessie’s  a good' 
girl,  an’  I reckon  she  earns  her  keep,  don’t  she, 
helpin’  you  like,  round  the  place?” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


5 


“Earn  her  keep?”  Mrs.  Hoover  would  shrill. 
“She’s  so  lazy  she’d  never  do  anythin’  at  all  if 
I didn’t  stand  over  her.  All  she’s  good  fer  is  to 
eat  an’  sleep— an’  to  hide  off  som’ere’s  so’s  she 
can  read  them  trashy  books  when  she  ought  to 
be  reddin’  up  or  doin’  her  chores!” 

Anri  Paw  Hoover  would  sigh  and  retire,  beaten 
in  the  argument.  He  knew  his  wife  too  well  to 
argue  with  her.  But  he  liked  Bessie,  and  he  did 
his  best  to  comfort  her  when  he  had  the  chance,, 
and  thought  there  was  no  danger  of  starting  a 
dispute  with  his  wife. 

Bessie  finished  her  dishes,  and  then  she  went 
out  obediently  to  the  wood  pile,  and  set  to  work 
to  chop  kindling.  She  had  been  up  since  day- 
light—and  the  sun  rose  early  on  those  summer 
mornings.  Every  bone  and  muscle  in  her  tired 
little  body  ached,  but  she  knew  well  that  Mrs., 
Hoover  had  been  listening  to  the  work  of  wash- 
ing the  dishes,  and  she  dared  not  rest  lest  her 
taskmistress  descend  upon  her  again  when  the 
noise  ceased. 

Mrs.  Hoover  came  out  after  she  had  been 
chopping  wood  for  a few  minutes  and  eyed  her 

crossly. 

“ ’Pears  to  me  like  you’re  mighty  slow,”  she 
said,  complainingly.  “When  you  get  that  done 
there’s  butter  to  be  made.  So  don’t  be  all  day 

about  it.  ” 


6 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


But  the  wood  was  hard,  and  though  Bessie 
worked  diligently  enough,  her  progress  was  slow. 
She  was  still  at  it  when  Mrs.  Hoover,  dressed  in 
her  black  silk  dress  and  with  her  best  bonnet  on 
her  head,  appeared  again. 

“I’m  goin’  to  drive  into  town,”  she  said.  “An’ 
if  that  butter  ain’t  done  when  I get  back,  I’ll — ” 

She  didn’t  finish  her  threat  in  words,  but  Bessie 
had  plenty  of  memories  of  former  punishments. 
She  made  no  answer,  and  Mrs.  Hoover,  still  scowl- 
ing, finally  went  off. 

As  if  that  had  been  a signal,  another  girl 
appeared  suddenly  from  the  back  of  the  wood- 
shed. She  was  as  dark  as  Bessie  was  fair,  a 
mischievous,  black-eyed  girl,  who  danced  like  a 
sprite  as  she  approached  Bessie.  Her  brown  legs 
were  bare,  her  dress  was  even  more  worn  and  far 
dingier  than  Bessie’s,  which  was  clean  and  neat. 
She  was  smiling  as  Bessie  saw  her. 

“Oh,  Zara,  aren’t  you  afraid  to  come  here?” 
said  Bessie,  alarmed,  although  Zara  was  her  best, 
and  almost  her  only  friend.  “You  know  what 
she  said  she’d  do  if  she  ever  caught  you  around 
here  again!” 

“Yes,  I know,”  said  Zara,  seating  herself  on 
a stump  and  swinging  her  legs  to  and  fro,  after 
she  had  kissed  Bessie,  still  laughing.  “I’m  not 
afraid  of  her,  though,  Bessie.  She’d  never  catch 
me — she  can’t  run  fast  enough!  And  if  she  ever 
touched  me—” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


7 


The  smile  vanished  suddenly  from  Zara’s  olive 
skinned  face.  Her  eyes  gleamed. 

“She’d  better  look  out  for  herself!”  she  said, 
“She  wouldn’t  do  it  again!” 

“Oh,  Zara,  it’s  wrong  to  talk  that  way,”  said 
Bessie.  “She’s  been  good  to  me.  She’s  looked 
after  me  all  this  time— and  when  I was  sick  she 
was  ever  so  nice  to  me—” 

“Pooh!”  said  Zara.  “Oh,  I know  I’m  not 
good  and  sweet  like  you,  Bessie!  The  teacher 
says  that’s  why  the  nice  girls  won’t  play  with 
me.  But  it  isn’t.  I know— and  it’s  the  same  way 
with  you.  If  we  had  lots  of  money  and  pretty 
clothes  and  things  like  the  rest  of  them,  they 
wouldn’t  care.  Look  at  you!  You’re  nicer  than 
any  of  them,  but  they  don’t  have  any  more  to  do 
with  you  than  with  me.  It’s  because  we’re  poor.” 

“I  don’t  believe  it’s  that,  Zara.  They  know 
that  I haven’t  got  time  to  play  with  them,  and 
that  I can’t  ask  them  here,  or  go  to  their  houses; 
if  they  ask  me.  Some  time — ’ ’ 

“You’re  too  good,  Bessie.  You  never  get  angry 
at  all.  You  act  as  if  you  ought  to  be  grateful  to 
Maw  Hoover  for  looking  after  you.  Don’t  she 
make  you  work  like  a hired  girl,  and  pay  you 
nothin’  for  it?  You  work  all  the  time— she’d 
have  to  pay  a hired  girl  good  wages  for  what 
you  do,  and  treat  her  decently,  beside.  You’re 
so  nice  that  everyone  picks  on  you,  just  ’cause 
they  know  they  can  do  it  and  you  won’t  hit  back.” 


8 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIELS 


Glad  of  a chance  to  rest  a little,  Bessie  had 
stopped  her  work  to  talk  to  Zara,  and  neither  of 
the  two  girls  heard  a stealthy  rustling  among  the 
leaves  back  of  the  woodshed,  nor  saw  a grinning 
face  that  appeared  around  the  corner.  The  first 
warning  that  they  had  that  they  were  not  alone 
came  when  a long  arm  reached  out  suddenly  and 
a skinny,  powerful  hand  grasped  Zara’s  arm  and 
dragged  her  from  her  perch. 

“Caught  ye  this  time,  ain’t  I!”  said  the  owner 
of  the  hand  and  arm,  appearing  from  around  the 
corner  of  the  shed.  “My,  but  Maw’ll  pickle  yer 
when  she  gits  hold  of  yer!” 

“Jake  Hoover!”  exclaimed  Bessie,  indignantly. 
“You  big  sneak,  you!  Let  her  go  this  instant! 
Aren’t  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  hurtin’  her  like 
that?” 

Zara,  caught  off  her  guard,  had  soon  collected 
herself,  and  begun  to  struggle  in  his  grasp  like 
the  wild  thing  she  was.  But  Jake  Hoover  only 
laughed,  leering  at  the  two  girls.  He  was  a tall, 
lanky,  overgrown  boy  of  seventeen,  and  he  was 
enjoying  himself  thoroughly.  He  seemed  to  have 
inherited  all  his  mother’s  meanness  of  disposition 
and  readiness  to  find  fault  and  to  take  delight 
in  the  unhappiness  of  others.  Now,  as  Zara 
struggled,  he  twisted  her  wrist  to  make  her  stop, 
and  only  laughed  at  her  cries  of  pain. 

“Let  her  go!  She  isn’t  hurting  you!”  begged 
Bessie.  “Please,  Jake,  if  you  do,  I’ll  help  you 
do  your  chores  tonight— I will,  indeed!” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


9 


“You’ll  have  to  do  ’em  anyhow,”  said  Jake, 
still  holding  poor  Zara.  “I’ve  got  a dreadful 
headache.  I ’m  too  sick  to  do  any  work  to-night.  ’ ’ 

He  made  a face  that  he  thought  was  comical. 
Zara,  realizing  that  she  was  helpless  against  his 
greater  strength,  had  stopped  struggling,  and  he 
turned  on  her  suddenly  with  a vicious  glare. 

“I  know  why  you’re  hangin’  ’round  here,”  he 
said.  ‘ ‘ They  took  that  worthless  critter  you  call 
your  paw  off  to  jail  jest  now— and  you’re  tryin’ 
to  steal  chickens  till  he  comes  out.” 

“That  ain’t  true!”  she  exclaimed.  “My  father 
never  stole  anything.  They’re  just  picking  on 
him  because  he’s  a foreigner  and  can’t  talk  as 
well  as  some  of  them—” 

“They’ve  locked  him  up,  anyhow,”  said  Jake. 
“An’  now  I’m  goin’  to  lock  you  up,  too,  an’ 
keep  you  here  till  maw  comes  home— right  here 
in  the  woodshed,  where  you’ll  be  safe!” 

And  despite  her  renewed  struggling  and 
Bessie’s  tearful  protests,  he  kept  his  word,  thrust- 
ing her  into  the  woodshed  and  locking  the  great 
padlock  on  the  door,  while  she  screamed  in  futile 
rage,  and  kicked  wildly  at  the  door. 

Then,  with  a parting  sneer  for  Bessie,  he  went 
off,  carrying  the  key  with  him. 

“Listen,  Zara,”  said  Bessie,  sobbing.  “Can 
you  hear  me!” 

“Yes.  I’m  all  right,  Bessie.  Don’t  you  cry! 
He  didn’t  hurt  me  any.” 


10 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“I’ll  try  and  get  a key  so  I can  let  you  out 
before  she  comes  home.  If  sbe  finds  you  in  there, 
she’ll  give  jmu  a beating,  just  like  she  said.  I’ve 
got  to  go  churn  some  milk  into  butter  now,  but 
I’ll  be  back  as  soon  as  ever  I can.  Don’t  you 
worry!  I’ll  get  you  out  of  there  all  right.” 

“Please  try,  Bessie!  I’m  so  worried  about 
what  he  said  about  my  father.  It  can’t  be  true — 
but  how  would  he  ever  think  of  such  a story?  I 
want  to  get  home  and  find  out.” 

“You  keep  quiet.  I’ll  find  some  way  to  get  you 
out,”  promised  Bessie,  loyally. 

And,  stirred  to  a greater  anger  than  she  had 
ever  felt  by  Jake  Hoover’s  bullying  of  poor  Zara, 
she  went  off  to  attend  to  her  churning. 

Jake,  as  a matter  of  fact,  was  responsible  for 
a good  deal  of  Bessie’s  unhappiness.  As  a child 
he  had  been  sickly,  and  he  had  continued,  long 
after  he  had  outgrown  his  weakness,  and  sprouted 
up  into  a lanky,  raw-boned  boy,  to  trade  upon  the 
fears  his  parents  had  once  felt  for  him.  Among 
boys  of  his  own  age  he  was  unpopular.  He  had 
early  become  a bully,  abusing  smaller  and  weaker 
boys. 

Bessie  he  had  long  made  a mark  for  his  sallies 
of  wit.  He  taunted  her  interminably  about  the 
way  her  father  and  mother  had  left  her ; he  pulled 
her  hair,  and  practiced  countless  other  little  tricks 
that  she  could  not  resent.  His  father  tried  to 
reprove  him  at  times,  but  his  mother  always 


IN  THE  WOODS 


11 


rushed  to  Ms  defence,  and  in  her  eyes  he  could 
do  no  wrong.  She  upheld  him  against  anyone 
who  had  a bad  word  to  say  concerning  him— and, 
of  course,  Bessie  got  undeserved  rebukes  for 
many  of  his  misdeeds. 

He  soon  learned  that  he  could  escape  punish- 
ment by  making  it  seem  that  she  had  done  things 
of  which  he  was  accused,  and,  as  his  word  was 
always  taken  against  hers,  no  matter  what  the 
evidence  was,  he  had  only  increased  his  mother’s 
dislike  for  the  orphaned  girl. 

The  whole  village  shared  Maw  Hoover’s  dis- 
like of  Zara  and  her  father.  He  had  settled  down 
two  or  three  years  before  in  an  abandoned  house, 
but  no  one  seemed  to  understand  how  he  lived. 
He  disappeared  for  days  at  a time,  but  he  seemed 
always  to  have  money  enough  to  pay  his  way, 
although  never  any  more.  And  in  the  village 
there  were  dark  rumors  concerning  him.  ' 

Gossip  accused  him  of  being  a counterfeiter, 
who  made  bad  money  in  the  abandoned  house  he 
had  taken  for  his  own,  and  that  seemed  to  be  the 
favorite  theory.  And  whenever  chickens  were 
missed,  dark  looks  were  cast  at  Zara  and  her 
father.  He  looked  like  a gypsy,  and  he  would 
never  answer  questions  about  himself.  That  was 
enough  to  condemn  him. 

Bessie  finished  her  churning  quickly,  and  then 
went  back,  hoping  either  to  make  Jake  relent  or 
find  some  way  of  releasing  the  prisoner  in  the 


12 


THE  CAMP  PISE  GIELS 


woodshed.  But  she  could  see  no  sign  of  Jake. 
The  summer  afternoon  had  become  dark.  In  the 
west  heavy  black  clouds  were  forming,  and  as 
Bessie  looked  about  it  grew  darker  and  darker. 
Evidently  a thunder  shower  was  approaching. 
That  meant  that  Maw  Hoover  would  hurry  home. 
If  she  was  to  help  Zara  she  must  make  haste. 

Jake,  it  seemed,  had  the  only  key  that  would 
open  the  padlock  and  Bessie,  though  she  knew 
.that  she  would  be  punished  for  it,  determined  to 
try  to  break  the  lock  with  a stone.  She  told  Zara 
what  she  meant  to  do,  and  set  to  work.  It  was 
hard  work,  but  her  fingers  were  willing,  and 
Zara’s  frightened  pleading,  as  the  thunder  began 
to  roar,  and  flashes  of  lightning  came  to  her 
through  the  cracks  in  the  woodshed,  urged  her 
on.  And  then,  just  as  she  was  on  the  verge  of 
success,  she  heard  Jake’s  coarse  laugh  in  her  ear. 

“Look  out!”  he  shouted. 

He  stood  in  the,  kitchen  door,  and,  as  she  turned,, 
something  fell,  hissing,  at  her  feet.  She  started 
back,  terrified.  Jake  laughed,  and  threw  another 
burning  stick  at  her.  He  had  taken  a shovelful 
of  embers  from  the  fire,  and  now  he  tossed  them 
at  her  so  that  she  had  to  dance  about  to  escape 
the  sparks.  Jt  was  a dangerous  game,  but  one 
that  Jake  loved  to  play.  He  knew  that  Bessie  was 
afraid  of  fire,  and  he  had  often  teased  her  in  that 
fashion.  But  suddenly  Bessie  shrieked  in  real 
terror.  As  yet,  though  the  approaching  storm 


IN  THE  WOODS 


13 


blackened  the  sky,  there  was  no  rain.  But  the 
wind  was  blowing  almost  a gale,  and  Bessie  saw 
a little  streamer  of  flame  run  up  the  side  of  the 
woodshed. 

“The  shed’s  on  fire!  You’ve  set  it  on  fire!” 
she  shrieked.  “Quick— give  me  that  key!” 

Jake,  really  frightened  then,  ran  toward  her 
with  the  key  in  his  hand. 

“Get  some  water!”  Bessie  called  to  him. 
* ‘ Quick ! ’ ’ 

And  she  unlocked  the  padlock  and  let  Zara, 
terrified  by  the  fire,  out.  But  Jake  stood  there 
stupidly,  and,  fanned  by  the  wind,  the  flames 
spread  rapidly. 

“Gosh,  now  you  have  done  it!”  he  said. 
“Maw’ll  just  about  skin  you  alive  for  that  when 
I tell  her  you  set  the  shed  afire'!” 

Bessie  turned  a white  face  toward  him. 

“You  wouldn’t  say  that!”  she  exclaimed. 

But  she  saw  in  his  scared  face  that  he  would 
tell  any  lie  that  would  save  him  from  the  conse- 
quences of  his  recklessness.  And  with  a sob  of 
fright  she  turned  to  Zara. 

“Come,  Zara!”  she  cried.  “Get  away!”' 

“Come  with  me!”  said  Zara.  “She’ll  believe 
you  did  it!  Come  with  me!” 

And  Bessie,  too  frightened  and  tired  to  think 
much,  suddenly  yielded  to  her  fright,  and  ran 
with  Zara  out  into  the  woods. 


CHAPTER  n 


AN  UNJUST  ACCUSATION 

They  had  not  gone  far  when  the  rain  burst 
upon  them.  They  stuck  to  the  woods  to  avoid 
meeting  Maw  Hoover  on  her  way  home,  and  as 
the  first  big  drops  pattered  down  among  the  trees 
Zara  called  a halt. 

“It’s  going  to  rain  mighty  hard,”  she  said. 
“We’d  better  wait  here  and  give  it  a chance  to 
stop  a little  before  we  cross  the  clearing.  We’ll 
get  awful  wet  if  we  go  on  now.” 

Bessie,  shivering  with  fright,  and  half  minded, 
even  now,  to  turn  back  and  take  any  punishment 
Maw  Hoover  chose  to  give  her,  looked  up  through 
the  trees.  The  lightning  was  flashing.  She 
turned  back — and  the  glare  of  the  burning  wood- 
shed helped  her  to  make  up  her  mind  to  stay  with 
Zara.  As  they  looked  the  fire,  against  the  black 
background  of  the  storm,  was  terrifying  in  the 
extreme. 

“You’d  never  think  that  shed  would  make  such 
a blaze,  would  you?”  said  Zara,  trembling.  “I’d 
like  to  kill  that  Jake  Hoover!  Plow  did  he  set 
it  on  fire?” 

“He  must  have  been  watching  me  all  the  time 
14 


IN  THE  WOODS 


15 


when  I was  trying  to  help  yon  to  get  out,”  said 
Bessie.  ‘ ‘ Then,  when  I was  nearly  done,  he  called 
to  me,  and  then  he  began  throwing  the  burning 
wood  at  me.  He  knows  I hate  that— he’s  done  it 
before.  I can  always  get  out  of  the  way.  He 
doesn’t  throw  them  very  near  me,  really.  But 
two  or  three  times  the  sparks  have  burned  holes 
in  my  dress  and  Maw  Hoover’s  been  as  mad  as 
she  could  be.  So  she  thinks  anyhow  that  I play 
around  the  fire,  and  she’d  never  believe  I didn’t 
do  it.” 

‘ ‘ The  rain  ought  to  put  the  fire  out,  ’ ’ said  Zara 
presently,  after  they  had  remained  in  silence  for 
a few  moments.  “But  I think  it’s  beginning  to 
stop  a little  now.” 

“It  is,  and  the  fire’s  still  burning,  Zara.  It 
seems  to  me  it’s  brighter  than  ever.  And  listen — 
when  it  isn’t  thundering.  Don’t  you  hear  a noise 
as  if  someone  was  shouting  back  there?” 

Zara  listened  intently. 

“Yes,”  she  said.  “And  it  sounds  as  if  they 
were  chopping  with  axes,  too.  I hope  the  fire 
hasn’t  spread  and  reached  the  house,  Bessie.” 

Bessie  shivered. 

“I  hope  so,  too,  Zara.  But  it’s  not  my  fault, 
anyhow:  You  and  I know  that,  even  if  no  one 
believes  us.  It  was  Jake  Hoover  who  did  it,  and 
he’ll  be  punished  for  it  some  time,  I guess, 
whether  his  maw  ever  finds  it  out  or  not.” 

They  waited  a few  minutes  longer  for  the  rain 


16 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


to  stop,  and  then,  as  it  grew  lighter,  they  began 
to  move  on.  They  could  see  a heavy  cloud  of 
smoke  from  the  direction  of  the  farmhouse,  hut 
no  more  flames,  and  now,  as  the  thunder  grew 
more  and  more  distant,  they  could  hear  shouting 
more  plainly.  Evidently  help  had  come— Paw 
Hoover,  probably,  seeing  the  fire,  and  rushing  up 
from  the  fields  with  his  hired  men  and  the  neigh- 
bors to  put  it  out. 

“Zara,”  said  Bessie,  suddenly,  “suppose  Jake 
was  telling  the  truth?  Suppose  they  have  taken 
your  father  away?  You  know  they  have  said 
things  about  him,  and  lots  of  people  believe  he  is 
a bad  man.  I never  did.  But  suppose  they  really 
have  taken  him,  what  will  you  do?” 

“I  don’t  know.  Stay  there,  I suppose.  But, 
Bessie,  it  can’t  be  true!” 

“Maybe  they  wouldn’t  let  you  stay.  When 
Mary  Morton’s  mother  died  last  year  and  left  her 
alone,  they  took  her  to  the  poorhouse.  Maybe 
they’d  make  you  go  there,  too.” 

“They  shan’t!”  cried  Zara,  her  eyes  flashing 
through  her  tears.  “I— I’ll  run  away— I’ll  do 
anything—” 

“I’m  going  to  run  away,  myself,”  said  Bessie, 
quietly.  She  had  been  doing  a lot  of  thinking. 
“No  one  could  make  me  work  harder  than  Maw 
Hoover,  and  they’d  pay  me  for  doing  it.  I’m 
going  to  get  as  far  away  as  I can  and  get  a 
real  job.” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


17 


Zara  looked  at  Bessie,  usually-  so  quiet  and 
meek,  in  surprise.  There  was  a determined  note 
in  Bessie’s  voice  that  she  had  never  heard  there 
before. 

“We’ll  stick  together,  you  and  I,  Zara,”  said 
Bessie.  “I’m  afraid  something  has  happened  to 
your  father.  And  if  that’s  so,  we’d  better  not  go 
right  up  to  your  house.  We’d  better  wait  until 
it’s  dark,  and  go  there  quietly,  so  that  we  can 
listen,  and  see  if  there’s  anyone  around  looking 
for  you.” 

“But  we  won’t  get  any  supper!”  said  poor 
Zara.  “And  I’m  hungry  already!” 

“We’ll  find  berries  and  nuts,  and  we  can  easily 
find  a spring  where  we  can  drink  all  we  want,” 
said  Bessie.  “I  guess  we’ve  got  to  look  out  for 
ourselves  now,  Zara.  There’s  no  one  else  to  do 
it  for  us.” 

And  Bessie,  the  meek,  the  quiet,  the  subdued, 
from  that  moment  took  command.  Always  before 
Zara  had  seemed  the  plucky  one  of  the  two.  She 
had  often  urged  Bessie  to  rebel  against  Maw 
Hoover’s  harshness,  and  it  had  been  always 
Bessie  who  had  hung  back  and  refused  to  do  any- 
thing that  might  make  trouble.  But  now,  when 
the  time  for  real  action  had  come,  and  Bessie 
recognized  it,  it  was  she  who  made  the  plans  and 
decided  what  was  to  be  done. 

Bessie  knew  the  woods  well,  far  better  than 
Zara.  Unerringly  she  led  the  way  to  a spot  she 


18 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


knew,  where  a farm  had  been  allowed  to  drift 
back  to  wild  country,  and  pointed  out  some  cherry 
trees. 

“Some  berries  aren’t  good  to  eat,  but  I know 
those  cherries,”  said  Bessie.  “They  used  to  be 
the  best  trees  in  the  whole  county  years  ago — 
Paw  Hoover’s  told  me  that.  Some  believe  that; 
they’re  no  good  now,  because  no  one  has  looked 
after  the  trees,  but  I know  they’re  fine.  I ate 
some  only  the  other  day,  and  they’re  ripe  and 
delicious.  So  we  ’ll  have  supper  off  these  trees.  ’ ’ 

Zara,  as  active  as  a little  cat,  climbed  the  tree 
at  once,  and  in  a moment  she  was  throwing  down 
the  luscious  fruit  to  Bessie,  who  gathered  it  in  her 
apron  and  called  to  Zara  when  she  had  picked 
enough  of  the  big,  round  cherries. 

“Aren’t  they  good,  Zara?  Eat  as  many  as  you 
want.  They’re  not  like  a real  supper  of  meat  and 
potatoes  and  things  like  that,  you  know,  but 
they’ll  keep  us  from  feeling  hungry.” 

“They  certainly  will,  Bessie.  I’d  never  have 
known  about  them.  But  then  I haven’t  lived  long 
enough  in  the  country  to  know  it  the  way  you  do. 
I’ve  been  in  cities  all  my  life.” 

“Yes,  and  if  we  get  to  the  city,  Zara,  you’ll 
know  lots  of  things  and  be  able  to  tell  me  all  about 
them.  It  must  be  wonderful.” 

“I  suppose  it  is,  Bessie,  but  I never  thought  of 
it  that  way.  It  must  have  been  because  I was 
used  to  everything  of  that  sort.  When  you  see 


IN  THE  WOODS 


19 


tilings  every  day  yon  get  so  that  yon  don’t  think 
anything  about  them.  I used  to  laugh  at  people 
from  the  country  when  I’d  see  them  staring  up  at 
the  high  buildings,  and  jumping  when  an  auto- 
mobile horn  tooted  anywhere  near  them.” 

“I  suppose  it  must  have  seemed  funny  to  you.” 

“Yes,  but  I was  sorry  when  I came  out  here 
and  saw  that  everyone  was  laughing  at  me.  There 
were  all  sorts  of  things  I’d  never  seen  or  thought 
about.  I’m  really  only  just  beginning  to  get  used, 
to  them  now.  Bessie,-  it’s  getting  pretty  dark 
Won’t  the  moon  be  up  soon?” 

“Not  for  an  hour  or  two  yet,  Zara.  But  it  is 
dark  now— we’d  better  begin  walking  toward  your 
house.  We  want  to  get  there  while  it  stays  dark, 
and  before  the  old  moon  does  get  up.  It’ll  be  just 
as  bright  as  daylight  then,  and  they’d  be  able  to 
see  us.  I tell  you  what— we  want  to  keep  off  the 
road.  We’ll  go  through  the  woods  till  we  get  a 
chance  to  cut  through  Farmer  Weeks’  cornfield. 
That’ll  bring  us  out  behind  your  place,  and  we 
can  steal  up  quietly.” 

“You’d  think  we’d  been  doing  something 
wrong,  Bessie.  It  seems  mighty  mean  for  us  to 
have  to  sneak  around  that  way.” 

“It’s  all  right  as  long  as  we  know  we  haven’t 
done  anything  that  isn’t  right,  Zara.  That’s  the 
chief  thing.  If  you  do  right,  people  will  find  it 
out  sooner  or  later,  even  if  they  think  at  first  that 
you’re  bad.  Sometimes  it  takes  a long  time,  but 


20 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIELS 


Paw  Hoover  says  he’s  never  known  it  to  fail  that 
a had  man  gets  found  out  sooner  or  later.” 

“Then  Jake  Hoover’d  better  look  out,”  said 
Zara,  viciously.  “He’s  lied  so  much,  and  done  so 
many  mean  things  that  you’ve  got  the  blame  for, 
that  he’ll  have  an  awful  lot  to  make  up  for  when 
lie  starts  in.  What  would  Paw  Hoover  do  to  him 
if  he  knew  he’d  set  the  woodshed  on  fire,  Bessie?” 

“I  don’t  know.  He’d  be  awful  mad.  He  hasn’t 
got  so  awful  much  money,  you  know,  and  he  needs 
it  all  for  the  farm.  But  Maw  Hoover  thinks 
Jake’s  all  right.  She’d  find  some  excuse  for  him. 
She  always  does  when  he  does  get  found  out.  That 
happens  sometimes,  you  know.  He  can’t  always 
make  them  think  I’ve  done  it.” 

“I  guess  maybe  that’s  why  he’s  so  mean, 
Bessie.  Don’t  you  think  so?” 

“Shouldn’t  wonder,  Zara.  I don’t  believe  he 
stops  to  think  half  the  time.  Here  we  are!  We’ll 
cut  through  the  fence.  Careful  as  we  go  through 
—keep  to  the  lanes  between  the  stalks.  We 
mustn’t  hurt  the  corn,  you  know.” 

“I’d  like  to  pull  up  every  stalk!  These  people 
’round  here  have  been  mean  and  ugly  to  my 
father  ever  since  we  came  here.” 

“That  isn’t  right,  though,  Zara.  It  won’t  do 
you  any  good  to  hurt  them  in  return.  If  you  do 
wrong,  too,  just  because  they  have,  you’ll  be  just 
as  bad  as  they  are.” 

“Oh,  I know,  but  they’ve  said  all  sorts  of  awful 


IN  THE  WOODS 


21 


things,  and  if  they’ve  put  him  in  prison  now—” 
She  stopped,  with  a sob,  and  Bessie  took  her  hand. 

‘ ‘ Cheer  up,  Zara.  We  don’t  know  that  any- 
thing of  that  sort  has  happened  yet,  and,  even  if 
it  has,  it  will  come  out  all  right.  If  your  father 
hasn’t  done  anything  wrong,  they  can’t  punish 
him.  He’ll  get  a fair  trial  if  he’s  been  arrested, 
and  they  can’t  prove  he’s  done  anything  unless 
he  has,  you  know.  ’ ’ 

“But  if  they  lied  about  him  around  here, 
mightn’t  they  lie  the  same  afterward— at  the  trial, 
Bessie?  I’m  frightened;  really  I am!” 

“Hush,  Zara!  There’s  your  house,  and  there ’s 
a light!  That  means  there’s  someone  there.  I 
hope  it’s  your  father,  but  it  might  be  someone 
else,  and  we  mustn’t  let  them  hear  us.” 

The  two  girls  were  out  of  the  cornfield  now, 
and,  crossing  a little  patch  of  swampy  land,  came 
to  the  little  garden  around  Zara’s  house,  where 
her  father  had  planted  a few  vegetables  that 
helped  to  feed  him  and  Zara. 

The  house  was  little  better  than  a cabin,  a 
rough  affair,  tumbled  down  in  spots,  with  a sag-, 
ging  roof,  and  stained  and  weather-worn  boards. 
It  had  no  second  floor  at  all,  and  it  was  a poor, 
cheap  apology  for  a dwelling,  all  around.  But, 
after  all,  it  was  Zara’s  home,  the  only  home  she 
knew,  and  she  was  so  tired  and  discouraged  that 
all  she  wanted  was  to  get  safely  inside  and  throw 
herself  down  on  her  hard  bed  to  sleep. 


22 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“Listen!”  whispered  Bessie,  suddenly. 

From  the  room  into  which  the  kitchen  led  there 
came  a murmur  of  voices.  At  first,  though  they 
strained  their  ears,  they  could  make  nothing  out 
of  the  confused  sounds  of  talk.  But  gradually 
they  recognized  voices,  and  Bessie  turned  pale  as 
she  heard  Paw  Hoover’s,  easy  for  her  to  know, 
since  his  deep  tones  rumbled  out  in  the  quiet 
night.  Zara  recognized  them,  too,  and  clutched 
Bessie ’s  arm. 

“My  father  isn’t  there!”  she  whispered.  “If 
he  was,  I’d  hear  him.” 

“There’s  Farmer  Weeks— and  I believe  that’s 
Jake  Hoover’s  voice,  too,”  said  Bessie,  also  in  a 
whisper. 

Then  the  door  was  opened,  and  the  two  girls 
huddled  closer  together,  shivering,  afraid  that 
they  would  be  discovered.  But  it  seemed  that  Paw 
Hoover  had  only  opened  the  door  to  get  a little 
air,  since  the  night  was  very  hot  after  the  storm. 
About  them  the  insects  were  making  their  accus- 
tomed din,  and  a light  breeze  rustled  among  the 
treetops.  But,  with  the  door  open,  they  could 
hear  what  was  being  said  plainly  enough. 

“I  ain’t  goin’  to  wait  here  all  night,  Brother 
Weeks,”  said  Paw  Hoover.  “Got  troubles 
enough  of  my  own,  what  with  the  woodshed  set- 
tin’  fire  to  the  house!” 

“Oh!”  whispered  Bessie.  “Did  you  hear  that, 
Zara?  It  was  worse  than  we  thought.” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


23- 


“Huh!”  said  Weeks,  a rough,  hard  man,  who- 
found  it  hard  to  get  men  to  work  when  he  needed 
them  for  the  harvest  every  summer,  on  account 
of  his  reputation  for  treating  his  men  badly. 

“I  alius  told  you  you’d  have  trouble  with  that 
baggage  afore  you  got  rid  of  her,  Paw!  Lucky 
that  she  didn’t  burn  you  out  when  you  was  all 
asleep— I say,”  said  Jake. 

Bessie  listened,  every  nerve  and  muscle  in  her 
body  tense.  They  blamed  her  for  the  fire,  then! 
Her  instinct  when  she  had  run  away  had  been 
right. 

“I  swan,  I dunno  what  all  possessed  her,”  said 
Paw  Hoover.  “We  give  her  a good  home— but 
Jake  here  seen  her  do  it,  though  he  was  too  late 
to  stop  her— hey,  Jake?” 

“That’s  right,  Pop,”  said  Jake.  “She  didn’t 
know  I was  aroun’  anywhere.  Say,  you  ought 
to  have  her  pinched  for  doin’  it,  too.” 

“I  dunno— she’s  only  a youngster,”  said  Paw. 
“I  guess  they  wouldn’t  hold  her  responsible,, 
somehow.  But  say,  Brother  Weeks,  I hate  to 
think  of  that  little  Zara  runnin’  roun’  the  woods 
to-night.  She  ain’t  done  nothin’  wrong,  even  if 
her  paw’s  a crook.  An’  now  they  took  him  off, 
who’s  a-goin’  to  look  out  for  her?” 

“I’ll!  drive  her  over  to  the  poor-farm  when  she 
turns  up,”  said  Weeks.  “Then  they’ll  take  her, 
an’  apprentice  her  to  someone  as  wants  a girl  to 
work  aroun’  his  place,  like.  Bind  her  over  till 


21- 


THE  GAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


she’s  twenty-one,  and  let  her  work  for  her  keep. 
I might  take  her  myself — guess  ’twouldn’t  cost 
such  a lot  to  feed  her.  She’s  thin — reckon  she 
ain’t  ever  had  much  to  eat  here.” 

Bessie,  feeling  the  tremor  in  Zara’s  rigid  body 
at  this  confirmation  of  her  worst  fears,  put  her 
hand  quickly  over  her  friend’s  mouth,  just  in 
time  to  cheek  a cry  that  was  rising  to  her  lips. 

“Come,  Zara,”  she  whispered,  gently.  “We’ll 
have  to  look  out  for  ourselves.  Come,  we’ll  get 
away.  We  mustn’t  stay  around  here.” 

And,  holding  Zara’s  arm,  she  led  her  awaj\ 
For  a long  time,  until  Bessie  judged  that  it  was 
safe  to  return  to  the  road,  they  kept  on  through 
the  woods.  And,  when  they  came  out  on  the  road, 
the  moon  was  up. 

“The  world’s  a beautiful  place  after  all,  Zara,” 
said  Bessie.  “It  can’t  he  so  bad  when  every- 
thing’s so  lovely.  Come  on,  we’ll  walk  a little 
further,  and  then  we’ll  come  to  a place  I know 
where  we  can  sleep  to-night— a place  where  wood 
cutters  used  to  stay.  No  one’s  there  now,  and 
we’ll  he  dry  and  safe.” 

“I’m  not  afraid  if  I’m  with  you,  Bessie,”  said 
Zara. 


CHAPTER  III 


WO-HE-LO 

Two  or  three  miles  further  along  the  road, 
Bessie  spied  the  landmark  she  had  been  looking' 
for. 

“We’ll  turn  off  here,”  she  said.  “Cheer  up, 
Zara.  It  won’t  be  long  now  before  we  can  go  to 
sleep.  ’ ’ 

The  full  moon  made  it  easy  to  pick  their  way 
along  the  wood  path  that  Bessie  followed,  and 
before  long  they  came  to  a small  lake.  On  its  far 
side,  among  the  trees  near  the  shore,  a fire  was 
burning,  flickering  up  from  time  to  time,  and 
sending  dancing  shadows  on  the  beach. 

“There’s  someone  over  there,  Bessie,”  said 
Zara,  frightened  at  the  sign  of  human,  habitation. 

“They  won’t  hurt  us,  Zara,”  said  Bessie, 
stoutly.  “Probably  they  won’t  even  know  that 
we’re  around,  if  we  don’t  make  any  noise,  or  any 
■fire  of  our  own.  Here  we  ar-e — here’s  the  hut l 
Keel  Isn’t  it  nice  and  comfortable?  Hurry  now 
rr.iu  help  me  to  pick  up  some  of  these  branches  of 
pirn  trees.  They’ll  make  a comfortable  bed  for 
and  we’ll  sleep  just  as  well  as  if  we  were  at 
L : r— or  a lot  better,  because  there’ll  be  no  one 

25 


26 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


to  be  cross  and  make  trouble  for  us  in  the 
morning.  ’ ’ 

Bessie  arranged  the  branches,  and  in  a few 
moments  they  were  asleep,  lying  close  together. 
Pine  branches  make  an  ideal  bed,  but,  even  had 
their  couch  been  uncomfortable,  the  two  girls 
would  have  slept  well  that  night;  they  were  too 
tired  to  do  anything  else.  It  was  long  after  mid- 
night, and  both  had  been  through  enough  to  ex- 
haust them.  The  sense  of  peace  and  safety  that 
they  found  in  this  refuge  in  the  woods  more  than 
made  up  for  the  strangeness  of  their  surround- 
ings, and  when  they  awoke  the  sun  was  high. 
It  was  the  sound  of  singing  in  the  sweet,  fresh 
voices  of  girls  that  aroused  them  in  the  end.  And 
Bessie,  the  first  to  wake  up,  aroused  Zara,  and 
then  peeped  from  the  door  of  the  cabin. 

There  on  the  beach,  their  hair  spread  out  in 
the  sun,  were  half  a dozen  girls  in  bathing  dresses. 
Beside  them  were  a couple  of  canoes,  drawn  up 
on  the  beach,  and  they  were  laughing  and  sing- 
ing merrily  as  they  dried  their  hair.  Looking 
over  across  the  lake,  in  the  direction  of  the  fire 
she  had  seen  the  night  before,  Bessie  saw  that  it 
was  still  burning.  A pillar  of  smoke  rose  straight 
in  the  still  air,  and  beyond  it,  gleaming  among 
the  trees,  Bessie  saw  the  white  sides  of  three  or 
four  tents.  Astonished,  she  called  Zara. 

“They’re  not  from  around  here,  Zara,”  she 
whispered,  not  ready  yet  for  thb  strangers  to 


IN  THE  WOODS  2' 

discover  her.  “Girls  around  here  don’t  swim — 
it’s  only  the  boys  who  do  that,” 

“I’ll  bet  they’re  from  the  city  and  here  on  a 
vacation,”  said  Zara. 

“They  look  awful  happy,  Zara.  Isn’t  that  lady 
with  the  brown  hair  pretty?  And  she’s  older  than 
the  rest,  too.  You  can  see  that,  can’t  you?” 

“Listen,  Bessie!  She  just  called  one  of  the 
girls.  And  did  you  hear  what  she  called  her! 
.Minnehaha— that’s  a funny  name,  isn’t  if?” 

“It’s  an  Indian  name,  Zara.  It  means  Laugh- 
ing Water.  That’s  the  name  of  the  girl  that 
Hiawatha  loved,  in  the  poem.  I’ve  read  that, 
haven’t  you?” 

“I’ve  never  been  able  to  read  very  much, 
Bessie.  But  that  girl  isn’t  an  Indian.  She’s  ever 
so  much  lighter  than  1 am— she’s  as  fair  as  you. 
And  Indians  are  red,  aren’t  they?” 

“She’s  not  an  Indian,  Zara.  That’s  right 
enough.  It  must  be  some  sort  of  a game.  Oh, 
listen ! ’ ’ 

For  the  older  girl,  the  one  Zara  had  pointed 
out,  had  spied  Bessie’s  peeping  face  suddenly. 

“Look,  girls!”  she  cried,  pointing. 

And  then,  without  a word  of  signal  all  the  girls 
suddenly  broke  out  into  a song— a song  Bessie 
had  never  heard  before. 

“Wohelo  for  aye,  Wohelo  for  aye, 

“Wohelo,  Wohelo,  Wohelo  for  aye: 

“Wshe2o  for  work,  Wohelo  for  health, 

“Wohelo,  Wohelo,  Wohelo  for  love!” 


28 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


As  they  ended  the  song,  all  the  girls,  with  laugh- 
ing faces,  followed  the  eyes  of  their  leader  and 
looked  at  Bessie,  who,  frightened  at  first  when 
she  saw  that  she  had  been  discovered,  now  re- 
turned the  look  shyly.  There  was  something  so 
kind,  so  friendly,  about  the  manner  of  these  strange 
girls  that  her  fear  had  vanished. 

“Won’t  you  come  out  and  talk  to  us?”  asked 
the  leader  of  the  crowd. 

She  came  forward  alone  toward  the  door  of  the 
cabin,  looking  at  Bessie  with  interest. 

“My  name  is  Wanaka— that  is,  my  Camp  Fire 
name,”  said  the  stranger.  “We  are  Manasquan 
Camp  Fire  Girls,  you  know,  and  we ’ve  been 
camping  out  by  .this  lake.  Do  you  live  here?” 

“No— not  exactly,  ma’am,”  said  Bessie,  still  a 
little  shy. 

“Then  you  must  be  camping  out,  too?  . It’s  fun, 
isn’t  it?  But  you’re  not  alone,  are  you?  Didn’t 
I see  another  head  peeping  out?” 

“That’s  Zara.  She’s  my  friend,  and  she’s  with 
me,”  said  Bessie.  “And  my  name’s  Bessie 
King.  ’ ’ 

She  looked  curiously  at  Wanaka.  Bessie  had 
never  heard  of  the  Camp  Fire  Girls,  and  the 
great  movement  they  had  begun,  meant  to  do  for 
American  girls  what  the  Boy  Scout  movement 
had  begun  so  well  for  their  brothers. 

“Well,  won’t  you  and  Zara  spend  the  day  with 
us,  if  you  are  by  yourselves?”  asked  Wanaka. 


IN  THE  WOODS 


‘‘We’ll  take  you  over  to  camp  in  the  canoes,  and 
you  can  have  dinner  with  us.  We’re  going  hack 
now  to  cook  it.  The  other  girls  have  begun  to 
prepare  it  already.  ’ ’ 

“Oh,  we’d  like  to !”  cried  Bessie.  “I’m  awfully 
hungry— and  I’m  sure  Zara  is,  too.” 

Bessie  hadn’t  meant  to  say  that.  But  the 
thought  of  a real  meal  had  been  too  much  for  her. 

“Hungry!”  cried  Wanaka.  “Why,  haven’t 
you  had  breakfast?  Did  you  oversleep?” 

She  looked  about  curiously.  And  Bessie  saw 
that  she  could  not  deceive  this  tall,  slim  girl,  with 
the  wise  eyes  that  seemed  to  see  everything. 

“We— we  haven’t  anything  to  eat,”  she  said. 
And  suddenly  she  was  overcome  with  the  thought 
of  how;  hard  things  were  going  to  be,  especially 
for  Zara,  and  tears  filled  her  eyes. 

“You  shall  tell  me  all  about  it  afterwards,” 
said  Wanaka,  with  decision.  “Just  now  you’ve 
got  to  come  over  with  us  and  have  something  to- 
, eat,  right  away.  Girls,  launch  the  canoes ! We 
have  two  guests  here  who  haven’t  had  any  break- 
fast, and  they’re  simply  starving  to  death.” 

Any  girls  Bessie  had  ever  known  would  have 
rushed  toward  her  at  once,  overwhelming  her 
with  questions,  fussing  around,  and  getting 
nothing  done.  But  these  girls  were  different. 
They  didn’t  talk;  they  did  things.  In  a moment, 
as  it  seemed,  the  canoes  were  in  the  water,  and 
Bessie  and  Zara  had  been  taken  into  different 


30 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIELS 


■boats.  Then,  at  a word  from  Wanaka,  the  paddles 
rose  and  dipped  into  the  water,  and  with  two 
girls  paddling  each  canoe,  one  at  the  stern  and 
one  at  the  how,  they  were  soon  speeding  across 
the  lake,  which,  at  this  point,  was  not  more  than 
-a  quarter  of  a mile  wide. 

Once  ashore,  Wanaka  said  a few  words  to  other 
girls  who  were  busy  about  the  fire,  and  in  less 
than  a minute  the  savory  odor  of  frying  bacon 
and  steaming  coffee  rose  from  the  fire.  Zara  gave 
a little  sigh  of  perfect  content. 

“Oh,  doesn’t  that  smell  good!”  she  said. 

Bessie  smiled. 

“It  certainly  does,  and  it’s  going  to  taste  even 
better  than  it  smells,”  she  answered,  happily. 

They  sat  down,  cross-legged,  near  the  fire,  and 
the  girls  of  the  camp,  quiet  and  competent,  and 
asking  them  no  questions,  waited  on  them.  Bessie 
and  Zara  weren’t  used  to  that.  They  had  always 
Bad  to  wait  on  others,  and  do  things  for  other 
people ; no  one  had  ever  done  much  for  them.  It 
was  a new  experience,  and  a delightful  one.  But 
Bessie,  seeing  Wanaka ’s  quiet  eyes  fixed  upon 
her,  realized  that  the  time  for  explanations  would 
come  when  their  meal  was  over. 

And,  sure  enough,  after  Bessie  and  Zara  had 
•eaten  until  they  could  eat  no  more,  Wanaka  came 
to  her,  gently,  and  took  her  by  the  hand.  She 
seemed  to  recognize  that  Bessie  must  speak  for 
Zara  as  well  as  for  herself. 


IN  THE  WOODS 


31 


‘‘Now  suppose  we  go  off  by  ourselves  and  have 
a little  talk,  Bessie,”  she  suggested.  “I’m  sure 
you  have  something  to  tell  me,  haven’t  you?” 

“Yes,  indeed,  Miss  Wanaka,”  said  Bessie.  She 
knew  that  in  Wanaka  she  had  found,  by  a lucky 
chance,  a friend  she  could  trust  and  one  who 
could  give  her  good  advice. 

Wanaka  smiled  at  her  as  she  led  the  way  to  the 
largest  of  the  tents. 

“Just  call  me  Wanaka,  not  Miss  Wanaka,”  she 
said.  “My  name  is  Eleanor  Mercer,  but  here  in 
the  camp  and  wherever  the  Camp  Fire  Girls  meet 
we  often  call  one  another  by  our  ceremonial 
names.  Some  of  us— most  of  us— like  the  old 
Indian  names,  and  take  them,  but  not  always.” 

“Now,”  she  said,  when  they  were  alone  together 
in  the  tent,  “tell  me  all  about  it,  Bessie.  Haven’t 
you  any  parents?  Or  did  they  let  you  go  out  to 
spend  the  night  all  alone  in  the  woods  that  way?” 

Then  Bessie  told  her  the  whole  story.  Wanaka 
watched  her  closely  as  Bessie  told  of  her  life  with 
the  Hoovers,  of  her  hard  work  and  drudgery,  and 
of  Jake’s  persecution.  Her  eyes  narrowed  slightly 
as  Bessie  described  the  scene  at  the  woodshed, 
and  told  of  how  Jake  had  locked  Zara  in  to  wait 
for  his  mother’s  return,  and  of  his  cruel  and 
dangerous  trick  with  the  burning  embers. 

“Did  he  really  tell  his  father  that  you  had  set 
the  shed  on  fire— and  on  purpose?”  asked  Wan- 
aka, rather  sternly. 


32 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIELS 


“He  was  afraid  of  what  would  happen  to  him 
if  they  knew  he’d  done  it,”  said  Eessie.  “I  .guess 
he  didn’t  stop  to  think  about  what  they’d  do  to 
me.  v He  was  just  frightened,  and  wanted  to  save 
himself.  ’ ’ 

Wanaka  looked  at  her  very  kindly. 

“These  people  aren’t  related  to  you  at  all,  are 
they?”  she  asked.  “You  weren’t  bound  to  them 
— they  didn’t  agree  to  keep  you  any  length  of 
time  and  have  you  work  for  them  in  return  for 
your  board!” 

“No,”  said  Bessie. 

“Then,  if  that’s  so,  you  had  a right  to  leave 
them  whenever  you  liked,”  said  Wanaka,  thought- 
fully. “And  tell  me  about  Zara.  Who  is  her 
father?  What  does  he  do  for  a living?” 

“I  don’t  believe  she  even  knows  that  herself. 
They  used  to  live  in  the  city,  but  they  came  out 
here  two  or  three  years  ago,  and  he’s  never  gone 
around  with  the  other  men,  because  he  can’t  speak 
English  very  well.  He’s  some  sort  of  a foreigner, 
you  see.  And  when  they  took  him  off  to  prison 
Zara  was  left  all  alone.  He  used  to  stay  around 
the  cabin  all  the  time,  and  Zara  says  he  would 
work  late  at  night  and  most  of  the  day,  too,  mak- 
ing things  she  never  saw.  Then  he ’d  go  off  for 
two  or  three  days  at  a time,  and  Zara  thought  he 
went  to  the  city,  because  when  he  came  back  he 
always  had  money— not  very  much,  but  enough 
to  buy  food  and  clothes  for  them.  And  she  said 


IN  THE  WOODS 


33 


he  always  seemed  to  be  disappointed  and  unhappy 
when  he  came  back.” 

“And  the  people  in  the  village  thought  he  was 
a counterfeiter— that  he  made  bad  money  ?” 

“That’s  what  Maw  Hoover  and  Jake  said. 
They  thought  so,  I know.” 

“People  think  they  know  a lot  when  they’re 
only  guessing,  sometimes,  Bessie.  A man  has  a 
right  to  keep  his  business  to  himself  if  he  wants 
to,  as  long  as  he  doesn’t  do  anything  that’s 
wrong.  But  why  didn’t  Zara  stay?  If  her  father 
was  cleared  and  came  back,  they  couldn’t  keep 
her  at  the  poor-farm  or  make  her  go  to  work  for 
this  Farmer  Weeks  you  speak  of.” 

“I  don’t  know.  She  was  afraid,  and  so  was  I. 
They  call  her  a gypsy  because  she ’s  so  dark.  And 
people  say  she  steals  chickens.  I know  she  doesn’t, 
because  once  or  twice  when  they  said  she’d  done 
that,  she’d  been  in  the  woods  with  me,  walking 
about.  And  another  time  I saw  a?  hawk  swoop 
down  and  take  one  of  Maw  Hoover’s  hens,  and 
she  was  always  sure  that  Zara’d  done  that.” 

Wanaka  had  watched  Bessie  very  closely  while 
she  told  her  story.  Bessie ’s  clear,  frank  eyes  that 
never  fell,  no  matter  how  Wanaka  stared  into 
them,  seemed  to  the  older  girl  a sure  sign  that 
Bessie  was  telling  the  truth. 

“It  sounds  as  if  you’d  had  a pretty  hard  time, 
and  as  if  you  hadn’t  had  much  chance,”  she  said, 
gravely.  “It’s  strange  about  your  parents.” 


34 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


Bessie’s  eyes  filled  with,  tears. 

“Oh,  something  must  have  happened  to  them — 
something  dreadful,  ’ ’ she  said.  ‘ ‘ Or  else  I ’m  sure 
they  would  never  have  left  me  that  way.  And  I 
don’t  believe  what  Maw  Hoover  was  always  say- 
ing—that  they  were  glad  to  get  rid  of  me,  and 
didn’t  care  anything  about  me.” 

“Neither  do  I,”  said  Wanaka.  “Bessie,  I want 
to  help  you  and  Zara.  And  I think  I can— that 
we  all  can,  we  Camp  Fire  Girls.  You  know  that’s 
what  we  live  for— to  help  people,  and  to  love  them 
and  serve  them.  You  heard  us  singing  the  Wo- 
helo  cheer  when  we  first  saw  you.  Wohelo  means' 
work,  and  health,  and  love.  You  see,  it’s  a word 
we  mgde  up  by  taking  the  first  two  letters  of  each 
of  those  words.  I tell  you  what  I’m  going  to  do. 
You  and  Zara  must  stay  with  us  here  to-day.  The 
girls  trill  look  after  you.  And  I’m  going  into  the 
village  and  while  I’m  there  I’ll  see  how  things 
are.” 

“You  won’t  tell  Maw  Hoover  where  we  are; 
or  Farmer  Weeks?”  cried  Bessie. 

“I’ll  do  the  right  thing,  Bessie,”  said  Wanaka, 
smiling.  “You  may  he  sure  of  that.  I believe 
what  you’ve  told  me— I believe  every  word  of  it. 
But  you’d  rather  have  me  find  out  from  others, 
too,  I’m  sure.  You  see,  it  would  be  very  wrong 
for  us  to  help  girls  to  run  away  from  home.  But 
neither  you  nor  Zara  have  done  that,  if  your  story 
is  right.  And  I think  it  is  our  duty  to  help  you. 
both,  just  as  it  is  our  pleasure.” 


CHAPTER  IY 


AN  UNEXPECTED  EEIEND 

Bessie  wasn’t  afraid  of  wliat  Wanaka  would 
find  out  in  Hedge ville.  Wanaka  wouldn’t  take 
Jake  Hoover’s  word  against  hers,  that  much  was 
sure.  And  she  guessed  that  Wanaka  would  have 
her  own  ways  of  discovering  the  truth.  So,  as 
Wanaka  changed  from  her  bathing  suit  to  a cos- 
tume better  suited  to  the  trip  to  the  village,  Bessie 
went  out  with  a light  heart  to  find  Zara.  Already" 
she  thought  that  she  saw  the  way  clear  before 
them.  With  friends,  there  was  no  reason  why 
they  should  not  reach  the  city  and  make  their 
own  way  there,  as  plenty  of  other  girls  had  done. 
And  it  seemed  to  Bessie  that  Wanaka  meant  to 
be  a good  friend. 

“Oh,  Bessie,  have  you  been  hearing  all  about 
the  Camp  Fire,  too?”  asked  Zara,  when  she 
espied  her  friend.  “It’s  wonderful!  They  do 
all  sorts  of  things.  And  Minnehaha  is  going  to 
teach  me  to  swim  this  afternoon.  She’ll  teach 
you,  too,  if  you  like.” 

But  Bessie  only  smiled  in  answer.  She  could 
swim  already,  but  she  said  nothing  about  it,  since 
no  one  asked  her,  seeming  to  take  it  for  granted 

35 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIELS 


36 

that,  like  Zara,  she  was  unused  to  the  water. 
Moreover,  while  she  could  swim  well  enough,  she 
was  afraid  that  she  would  look-  clumsy  and  awk- 
ward in  comparison  to  the  Camp  Fire  Girls.  Most 
of  them  had  changed  their  clothes  now,  before 
•dinner. 

Some  wore  short  skirts  and  white  blouses;  one 
or  two  were  in  a costume  .that  Bessie  recognized 
at  once  as  that  of  Indian  maidens,  from  the  pic- 
tures she  had  seen  in  the  books  she  had  managed 
to  get  at  the  Hoover  farmhouse.  She  noticed,  too, 
that  many  of  them  now  wore  strings  of  beads, 
and  that  all  wore  rings.  Two  or  three  of  the 
.girls,  too,  wore  bracelets,  strangely  marked,  and 
all  bad  curious  badges  on  their  right  sleeves. 

“We’ve  got  to  wash  the  dishes,  now,”  .said 
Minnehaha,  who  bore  out  her  name  by  laughing 
and  smiling  most  of  the  time.  She  had  already 
told  Zara  that  her  real  name  was  Margery  Bur- 
ton. “You  sit  down  and  rest,  and  when  we’ve 
done,  we’ll  talk  to  yon  and  tell  you  more  about 
the  Camp  Fire  Girls  and  all  the  things  we  do.” 

“No,  indeed,”  said  Bessie,  laughing  back. 
“That  won’t  do  at  all.  You  cooked  our  meal; 
now  we’ll  certainly  help  to  clean  up.  That’s 
something  I can  do,  and  I’m  going  to  help.” 

Zara,  too,  insisted  on  doing  her  share,  and  the 
time  passed  quickly  as  the  girls  worked.  Then, 
when  the  things  were  cleaned  and  put  away,  and 
some  preparations  had  been  made  for  the  even- 


IN  THE  WOODS 


37 


ing  meal,  Zara  begged  to  have  her  first  swimming 
lesson  at  once. 

“No,  we’ll  have  to  wait  a little  while  for  that,” 
said  Minnehaha.  “We  must  wait  until  Wanaka 
comes  back.  She’s  our  Guardian,  you  see,  and  it’s 
a rule  that  we  mustn’t  go  into  the  water  unless 
she’s  here,  no  matter  how  well  we  swim,  unless, 
of  course,  we  have  to,  to  help  someone  who  is 
drowning.  And  it’s  too  soon  after  dinner,  too. 
It’s  bad  for  you  to  go  into  the  water  less  than 
two  hours  after  a meal.  We’re  always  careful 
about  that,  because  we  have  to  be  healthy.  That ’s 
one  of  the  chief  reasons  we  have  the  Camp  Fire.  ’ ’ 

“Tell  us  about  it,”  begged  Zara,  sitting  down. 

“Yon  see  this  ring'?”  said  Minnehaha,  proudly. 

She  pointed  to  her  ring,  a silver  band  with  an 
emblem, —seven  fagots. 

“We  get  a ring  like  that  when  we  join,”  she 
explained.  “That’s  the  Wood-Gatherer’s  ring, 
and  the  National  Council  gives  it  to  us.  Those 
seven  fagots  each  stand  for  one  of  the  seven  points 
of  the  law  of  the  fire.” 

“What  are  they,  Minnehaha!” 

“They’re  easy  to  remember:  ‘Seek  Beauty; 
Give  Service ; Pursue  Knowledge ; Be  Trust- 
worthy; Hold  on  to  Health;  Glorify  Work;  Be 
Happy.’  If  you  want  to  do  all  those  things— 
and  I guess  everyone  does— you  can  be  a Wood- 
Gatherer.  Then,  later  on,  you  get  to  be  a Fire- 
Maker,  and,  after  that,  a Torch-Bearer.  And 


38 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


when  you  get  older,  if  you  do  well,  you  can  be  a 
Guardian,  and  be  in  charge  of  a Camp  Fire  your- 
self. You  see,  there  are  Camp  Fires  all  over. 
There'  are  a lot  of  them  in  our  city,  and  in  every 
city.  And  there  are  more  and  more  all  the  time. 
The  movement  hasn’t  been  going  on  very  long,, 
but  it’s  getting  stronger  all  the  time.” 

“Are  you  a Fire-Maker!” 

“Not  yet.  If  I were,  I’d  wear  a bracelet,  like- 
Ayu.  And  instead  of  just  having  a bunch  of 
fagots  on  my  sleeve,  there ’d  be  a flame  coming 
from  them.  And  then,  when  I get  to  be  a Torch- 
Bearer,  I ’ll  have  a pin,  as  well  as  the  ring  and  the 
bracelet,  and  there’ll  be  smoke  on  my  badge,  as 
well  as  fire  and  wood.  But  you  have  to  work 
hard  before  you  can  stop  being  a Wood-Gatherer 
and  get  to  the  higher  ranks.  We  all  have  to 
work  all  the  time,  you  see.  ” 

“I’ve  had  to  work,  too,”  said  Bessie.  “But 
this  seems  different  because  you  enjoy  your 
work.” 

“That’s  because  we  like  to  work.  We  work 
because  we  want  to  do  it,  not  because  someone 
makes  us.” 

“Yes,  I was  thinking  of  that.  I always  worked 
because  I had  to— Maw  Hoover  made  me.” 

“Who’s  Maw  Hoover,  Bessie!” 

So  Bessie  told  her  story,  or  most  of  it,  all  over 
again,  and  the  other  girls,  seeing  that  she  was  tell- 
ing a story,  crowded  around  and  listened. 


IN  THE  WOODS 


39 


“I  think  it’s  a shame  you  were  treated  so 
badly,”  said  Minnehaha.  “But  don’t  you  worry 
—Miss  Eleanor  will  know  what  to  do.  She  won’t 
let  them  treat  you  unfairly.  Is  she  going  to  find- 
out  about  things  in  the  village?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well,  you  needn’t  worry  any  more,  then. 
Why,  one  of  the  first  things  she  did  in  the  city, 
when  she  started  this  Gamp  Fire,  was  to  get  us 
all  to  work  to  get  better  milk  for  the  babies  in 
the  poor  parts,  where  the  tenement  houses  are. 
W"e  all  helped,  but  she  did  most  of  it. , And  now 
all  the  milk  is  good  and  pure,  and  the  babies  don’t 
die  any  more  in  the  hot  weather  in  summer.” 

“That’s  fine.  I’d  like  to  be  a Camp  Fire  Girl.” 

“Why  shouldn’t  you  be  one,  then?” 

“Bnt— ” 

Bessie  hesitated. 

After  all,  why  not?  Maw  Hoover  would  never 
have  let  her  do  anything  like  that— but  Maw 
Hoover  couldn’t  stop  her  from  doing  anything  she 
liked  now.  Wanaka  had  told  her  what  Zara  had 
always  said,  that  Maw  Hoover  couldn’t  make  her 
stay,  couldn’t  make  her  keep  on  working  hard 
every  day  for  nothing  but  her  board.  She  had 
read  about  girls  who  had  gone  to  the  city  and 
earned  money,  lots  of  money,  without  working 
any  harder  than  she  had  always  done.  Perhaps 
she  could  do  that,  too. 

“You  talk  to  Wanaka  about  that  when  she 


40 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GISLS 


comes  back,”  said  Minnehaha,  who  guessed  what 
Bessie  was  thinking.  “You  see  her.  She’ll  ex- 
plain it  to  you.  And  you’re  going  to  be  happy, 
Bessie.  I’m  sure  of  that.  When  people  do  right, 
•and  still  aren’t  happy  for  a while,  it’s  always 
made  up  to  them  some  way.  And  usually  when 
they  do  wrong  they  have  to  pay  for  it,  some  way 
or  another.  That’s  one  of  the  things  we  learn  in 
the  Camp  Fire.” 

“Here  conies  Wanaka  now,”  said  one  of  the 
iother  girls.  “There’s  someone  with  her.” 

Bessie  looked  frightened. 

*“I  don’t  want  anyone  from  Hedgeville  to  see 
me,”  she  said.  “Do  you  suppose  they’re  coming 
here  t” 

“Wanaka  will  come  first.  See,  she’s  staying  on 
the  other  side  of  the  lake.  It’s  a man.  He’s  carry- 
ing her  things.  I’ll  paddle  over  for  her  in  a 
canoe.  I don’t  think  the  man  will  come  with  her, 
but  you  and  Zara  go  into  the  tent  there.  Then 
you’ll  be  all  right.  No  one  would  ever  think  of 
your  being  here,  or  asking  any  questions.” 

But  Bessie  watched  anxiously.  She  couldn’t 
make  out  the  face  of  the  man  with  Wanaka,  as 
she  peered  from  the  door  of  the  tent,  but  if  he 
was  from  Hedgeville  he  would  know  her.  Every- 
one knew  the  girl  at  Hoovers’,  whose  father  and 
mother  had  deserted  her.  Bessie  had  long  been 
one  of  the  most  interesting  people  in  town  to  the 


41 


IN  THE  WOODS 

farmers  and  the  villagers,  who  had  little  to  dis- 
tract or  amuse  them. 

“Stay  quiet,  Bessie,”  warned  Minnehaha,  as 
she  stepped  into  the  canoe.  “You’ll  he  all  right 
if  you’re  not  seen.  I’ll  bring  YvTanaka  back  right 
away.  ’ ’ 

With  swift,  sure  strokes,  Minnehaha  sent  the 
canoe  skimming  over  the  water.  The  other  girls 
were  busy  in  various  ways.  Some  were  in  the 
tents,  changing  their  clothes  for  bathing  suits; 
some  had  gone  into  the  woods  to  get  fresh  water 
from  a spring.  For  the  moment  no  one  was  in 
sight.  And  suddenly,  out  of  a clear  sky,  as  it 
seemed,  disaster  threatened.  Clouds  had  been 
gathering  for  some  time  but  the  sun  was  still  out, 
and  there  seemed  no  reason  to  fear  any  storm. 

But  now  there  was  a sudden  roughening  of  the 
smooth  surface  of  the  water;  white  caps  were 
lashed  up  by  a squall  that  broke  with  no  warning 
at  all.  And  Bessie,  filled  with  horror,  saw  the 
canoe  overturned  by  the  wind.  She  saw,  too,  what 
eyes  less  quick  would  have  missed— that  the 
paddle,  released  from  Minnehaha’s  grasp  as  the 
boat  upset,  struck  her  on  the  head. 

For  a moment  Bessie  stood  rooted  to  the  spot 
in  terror.  And  then,  when  Minnehaha  did  not 
appear,  swimming,  Bessie  acted.  Forgotten  was 
the  danger  that  she  would  be  discovered— her 
fear  of  the  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake. 
Wanaka  might  not  have  seen,  and  there  was  no 


42 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


time  to  lose.  The  accident  had  occurred  in  the 
middle  of  the  lake,  and  Bessie,  rushing  to  the 
beach,  pushed  off  a canoe  and  began  to  drive  it 
toward  the  other  canoe,  floating  quietly  now,  bot- 
tom up.  The  squall  had  passed  already. 

Bessie  had  never  been  in  a canoe  before  that 
day.  She  made  clumsy  work  of  the  paddling. 
But  fear  for  Minnehaha  and  the  need  of  reaching 
her  at  once  made  up  for  any  lack  of  skill.  Some- 
how she  reached  the  spot.  By  that  time  the  other 
girls  had  seen  what  was  going  on,  and  help  was 
coming  quickly.  Some  swam  and  some  were  in 
one  of  the  other  canoes.  But  Bessie,  catching  a 
glimpse  of  Minnehaha  just  rising  to  the  surface, 
didn’t  wait  for  them. 

In  a trice  she  leaped  overboard,  and,  swimming 
strongly,  reached  her  new  friend.  As  Bessie  had 
feared,  Minnehaha  had  been  stunned  by  the  jblow 
from  the  paddle.  Otherwise  she  could  have 
reached  the  shore  by  swimming,  or  could  have 
supported  herself  by  the  upturned  boat.  Bessie 
caught  hold  of  her,  and,  supporting  her  with  one 
arm,  used  the  other  to  reach  the  canoe,  to  which 
she  clung. 

And  in  a moment  she  was  safe.  Willing  hands 
reached  for  her  burden,  others  helped  her  to 
climb  back  into  the  canoe,  in  her  wet  clothes, 
since  she  had  plunged  in  fully  dressed.  And  then 
they  went  ashore,  while  one  of  the  swimmers 
climbed  into  the  canoe  Bessie  had  deserted  and 


IN  THE  WOODS 


43 


paddled  over  for  Wanaka,  who  had  seen  the 
whole  episode. 

They  hurried  Bessie  into  a tent  and  helped  her 
to  get  into  dry  things,  which  one  of  the  girls  lent 
to  her,  and  then  Bessie  joined  those  who  were 
busy  with  Minnehaha,  who  soon  showed  signs  of 
returning  consciousness.  So  Bessie  did  not  see 
or  hear  what  was  going  on  outside. 

For  the  man  who  had  been  standing  with 
Wanaka  on  the  other  shore  had  seen  Bessie,  and 
he  had  known  her.  No  wonder,  since  it  was  Paw 
Hoover  himself,  from  whom  Wanaka  had  bought 
fresh  vegetables  for  the  camp.  He  had  insisted 
on  helping  her  to  carry  them  out,  although  Wan- 
aka, thinking  of  Bessie  and  Zara,  had  told  him 
she  needed  no  help.  But  she  could  not  shake  him 
off,  and  on  the  way  he  had  told  her  about  the  ex- 
citing happenings  of  the  previous  day,  of  which, 
she  told  him,  she  had  already  heard  in  the 
village. 

“By  Godfrey !”  said  Paw  Hoover,  as  he  saw 
the  rescue  of  Minnehaha,  “that  young  one’s  got 
pluck,  so  she  has!  And,  what’s  more,  Miss,  I’ve 
a suspicion  I’ve  seen  her  before!” 

Wanaka  said  nothing,  but  smiled.  What  Paw 
Hoover  had  told  her  had  done  more  to  confirm 
the  truth  of  Bessie’s  story  than  all  the  talk  she 
had  heard  in  Hedgeville.  She  liked  the  old  farmer 
—and  she  wondered  j what  he  meant  to  do.  He 
didn’t  leave  her  long  in  doubt. 


44 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIBLS 

“I’ll  just  go  over  with  you,”  he  said,  “if  you’ll 
make  out  to  ferry  me  back  here  again.  ’ ’ 

And  Wanaka"  dared  not  refuse. 

“Had  an  idea  you  was  askin’  a lot  of  ques- 
tions,” said  Paw  Hoover,  with  a chuckle.  “Cot 
lots  of  ideas  I keep  to  myself— ’specially  at  home. 
An’  say,  if  that’s  Bessie,  I want  to  see  her.” 

Wanaka  saw  that  there  was  some  plan  in  his 
mind,  and  she  knew  that  to  try  to  ward  him  off 
would  be  dangerous.  There  was  nothing  to  pre- 
vent him  from  returning,  later,  with  Yfeeks  or 
anyone  else. 

“Bessie!”  she  called.  “Can  you  come  out  here 
a minute  ? ” 

And  Bessie,  coming  out,  came  face  to  face  with 
Paw  Hoover ! She  stared  at  him,  frightened  and 
astonished,  but  she  held  her  ground.  And  Paw 
Hoover’s  astonishment  was  as  great  as  her  own. 
This  was  a new  Bessie  he  had  never  seen  before. 
She  was  neatly  dressed  now  in  one  of  Ayu’s  hiue 
skirts  and  white  blouses,  and  one  of  the  girls  had 
done  up  her  hair  in  a new  way. 

“Well,  I swan!”  he  said.  “'You’ve  struck  it 
rich,  ain’t  you,  Bessie?  Aimin’  to  run  away  and 
leave  us?” 

Bessie  couldn’t  answer,  but  Wanaka  spoke  up. 

“You  haven’t  any  real  hold  on  her,  Mr. 
Hoover,”  she  said. 

“That’s  right,  that’s  right!”  said  Paw  Hoover,, 
“I  cal ’late  you’ve  had  a hard  time  once  in  a while, 


IN  THE  WOODS 


45 


Bessie.  An’  I don’t  believe  you  ever  set'  that 
shed  afire  on  purpose.  If  you  hadn’t  jumped  into 
the  water  after  that  other  girl  I’d  never  have 
suspicioned  you  was  here,  Bessie.  You  stay  right 
with  these  young  ladies,  if  they’ll  have  you.  I’ll, 
not  say  a word.  An’  if  you  ever  get  into  trouble,, 
you  write  to  me — see?” 

He  looked  at  her,  and  sighed.  Then  he  beck- 
oned to  her,  and  took  her  aside. 

“Maw’s  right  set  on  havin’  her  own  way, 
Bessie,”  he  said.  “But  she’s  my  wife,  an’  she’s-- 
a good  one,  an’  if  she  makes  mistakes,  I’ve  got 
to  let  her  have  her  way.  Beckon  I’ve  made 
enough  on  ’em  myself.  Here,  you  take  this.  I 
guess  you’ve  earned  it,  right  enough.  That  fire 
didn’t  do  no  real  damage— nothin’  we  can’t  fix 
up  in  a day  or  two.” 

Bessie ’s  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Paw  Hoover  was 
simply  proving  again  what  she  had  always  known 
—that  he  was  a really  good  and  kindly  man.  She 
longed  to  tell  him  that  she  hadn’t  set  the  barn  on 
fire,  that  it  had  been  Jake.  But  she  knew  he  would 
find  it  hard  to.  believe  that  of  his  son,  and  that, 
even  if  he  took  her  word  for  it,  the  knowledge 
would  be  a blow.  And  it  would  do  her  no  good, 
so  she  said  nothing  of  that. 

“Thank  you,  Paw,”  she  said.  “You  always 
were  good  to  me.  I’ll  never  forget  you,  and 
sometime  I’ll  come  back  to  see  you  and  all  the 
others.  Good-bye ! ’ ’ 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


16 

“ Good-bye,  Bessie,”  he  said.  “You  be  a good 
girl  and  you’ll  get  along  all  right.  And  yon  stick 
to  Miss  Mercer  there.  She’ll  see  that  you  get 
along.  ’ ’ 

Not  until  he  had  gone  did  Bessie  open  her  hand 
and  look  at  the  crumpled  bill  that  Paw  Hoover 
had  left  in  it.  And  then,  to  her  amazed  delight, 
she  saw  that  it  was  a five-doll  ar  note— more  money 
than  she  had  ever  had.  She  showed  it  to  Wanaka. 

“I  oughtn’t  to  take  it,”  she  said.  “He  thinks 
I burned  his  woodshed  and—” 

“But  you  know  you  didn’t,  and  I think  maybe 
he  knows  it,  too,”  said  Wanaka.  “You  needn’t 
think  anything  of  taking  that  money.  You’ve 
worked  hard  enough  to  earn  a lot  more  than  thax. 
Now  I’ve  found  out  that  what  you  told  me  vas 
dust  right.  I knew  it  all  the  time,  but  I m'ide 
sure.  Bessie,  how  would  you  and  Zara  like  to 
stay  with  us,  and  come  back  to  the  city  when  we 
go?  I’ll  be  able  to  find  some  way  to  look  if  ter 
you.  You  can  find  work  to  do  that  won’t  be  so 
hard,  and  you  can  study,  too.” 

“Oh,  I’d  love  that,  Wanaka.”  For  the  first 
time  Bessie  used  the  name  freely.  “And  can  we 
fee  Camp  Fire  Girls?” 

“You  certainly  can,”  said  Wanaka. 


CHAPTER  V 


AN  ALARM  IN  THE  NIGHT 

Bessie,  overjoyed  by  Paw  Hoover’s  kindness 
and  his  promise  to  do  nothing  toward  having  her 
taken  back  to  Hedgeville,  spent  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon  happily.  Indeed,  she  was  happier  than 
she  could  ever  remember  having  been  before. 
But  her  joy  was  dashed  when,  a little  while  be- 
fore supper,  she  came  upon  Zara,  crying  bitterly. 
Zara  had  gone  off  by  herself,  and  Bessie,  going 
to  the  spring  for  water,  came  upon  her. 

“Why,  Zara,  whatever  is  the  matter?  We’re 
all  right  now,”  cried  Bessie. 

“I— I know  that,  Bessie!  But  I’m  so  worried 
about  my  father!” 

“Oh,  Zara,  what  a selfish  little  beast  I am!  I 
was  so  glad  to  think  that  I wasn’t  going  to  be 
taken  back  that  I forgot  all  about  him.  But  cheer 
up!  I’m  sure  he’s  done  nothing  wrong,  and  I’ll 
talk  to  Wanaka,  and  see  if  there  isn’t  something 
I can  do  or  that  she  can  do.  I believe  she  can 
do  anything  if  she  makes  up  her  mind  she  will.” 

“Did  she  hear  anything  about  him  in  Hedge- 
ville ? ” 

“Only  what  we  knew  before,  Zara,  that  they’d 
47 


48  THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 

come  for  him  and  taken  him  to  the  city.  But 
Wanaka  said  she  was  sure  that  it  is  only  gossip, 
and  that  he  needn’t  be  afraid.  And  we’re  going 
to  the  city  too,  you  know,  so  you’ll  be  able  to  see 
him.  ’ ’ 

“Will  I,  Bessie?  Then  that  won’t  be  so  bad. 
If  I could  only  talk  to  him  I’m  sure  it  would  seem 
better.  And  you  must  be  right— they  can’t  pun- 
ish a man  when  he  hasn’t  done  anything  wrong, 
can  they?” 

“Of  course  not,”  said  Bessie,  laughing. 

“In  the.  country  where  we  came  from  they  do, 
sometimes,”  said  Zara,  Thoughtfully.  “My  father 
has  told  me  about  things  like  that.  ’ ’ 

“ In  Italy,  Zara?” 

“Yes.  We’re  not  Italians,  really,  but  that’s 
where  we  lived.” 

“But  yon  don’t  remember  anything  about  that, 
do  you?” 

“No,  but  I’ve  been  told  all  about  it.  We  used 
to  live  in  a white  house,  on  a hillside.  And  there 
were  lemon  trees  and  olive  trees  growing  there, 
and  all  sorts  of  beautiful  things.  And  you  could 
look  out  over  the  blue  sea,  and  see  tbe  boats  sail- 
ing, and  away  off  there  was  a great  mountain.” 

“I  should  think  you’d  want  to  go  back  there, 
Zara.  It  must  have  been  beautiful.” 

“Oh,  I’ve  always  wanted  to  see  that  place, 
Bessie.  Sometimes,  my  father  says,  the  mountain 
would  smoke,  and  fire  would  come  out  of  it,  and 


IN  THE  WOODS 


49 


the  ground  would  shake.  But  it  never  hurt  the 
place  where  we  lived.  ’ ’ 

“That  must  have  been  a volcano,  Zara.” 

“Yes,  that’s  what  he  used  to  call  it.” 

“Why  did  you  come  over  here?” 

“Because  my  father'  was  always  afraid  over 
there.  There  were  some  bad  men  who  hated  him, 
and  he  said  that  if  he  stayed  there  they  would 
hurt  him.  And  he  heard  that  over  here  every- 
one was  welcome,  and  one  man  was  as  good  as 
another.  But  he  wasn’t,  or  they  never  seemed  to 
think  so,  if  he  was.” 

Bessie  looked  very  thoughtful. 

“This  is  the  finest  country  in  the  world,  Zara,” 
she  said.  “I’ve  heard  that,  and  I’ve  read  it  in 
books,  too.  But  I guess  that  tilings  go  wrong  here 
sometimes.  You  see,  it’s  this  way.  Just  think 
of  Jake  Hoover.” 

“But  I don’t  want  to  think  about  him!  I want 
to  forget  him!” 

“Well,  Jake  Hoover  explains  what  I’m  think- 
ing about.  He’s  an  American,  but  that  isn’t  the 
reason  he  was  so  mean  to  us.  He ’d  be  mean  any-: 
, where,  no  matter  whether  he  was  an  American  or 
what.  He  just  can’t  help  it.  And  I think  he’ll 
get  over  it,  anyhow.” 

“There  you  go,  Bessie!  He’s  made  all  this 
trouble  for  you,  and  you’re  standing  up  for  him 
already.  ’ ’ 

“No,  I’m  not.  But  what  trouble  has  he  made 


50 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


for  me,  Zara!  I’m  going  to  be  happier  than  I 
ever  was  back  there  in  Hedgeville— and  if  it 
hadn’t  been  for  him  I’d  still  be  there,  and  I’d  be 
chopping  wood  or  something  right  now.” 

“But  he  didn’t  mean  to  make  you  happier, 
Bessie.  He  thought  he  could  get  you  punished 
for  something  he’d  done.” 

“Well,  I wasn’t,  so  why  should  I be  angry  at 
him,  Zara!  Even  if  he  did  mean  to  be  nasty, 
he  wasn’t.” 

“But  suppose  he’d  hurt  you  some  way,  with- 
out meaning  'to  at  all!  Would  you  be  angry  at 
him  then  for  hurting  you,  when  he  didn’t  mean 
to  do  it!” 

“Of  course  not— just  because  he  didn’t  mean 
to.” 

“Well,  then,”  said  Zara,  triumphantly,  “you 
ought  to  be  angry  now,  if  it’s  what  one  means  to 
do,  and  not  what  one  does  that  counts.  I would 
be.” 

Bessie  laughed.  For  once  Zara  seemed  to  have 
trapped  her  and  beaten  her  in  an  argument. 

“But  I don’t  like  to  be  angry,  and  to  feel. re- 
vengeful,” she  said.  “It  hurts  me  more  than  it 
does  the  other  person.  When  anything  happens 
that  isn’t  nice  it  only  bothers  you  as  long  as  you 
keep  on  thinking  about  it,  Zara.  Suppose  some- 
one threw  a stone  at  you,  and  hit  you!” 

“It  would  hurt  me— and  I’d  want  to  throw  it 
back.” 


IN  THE  WOODS' 


51 


“But  then  suppose  the  stone  was  thrown,  and 
it  didn’t  hit  you,  and  you  didn’t  even  know  it  had 
heen  thrown,  you  wouldn’t  be  angry  then,  would 
you?” 

“Why,  how  could  I be,  Bessie,  if  I didn’t  know 
anything  about  it?” 

“Well,  don’t  you  see  how  it  worked  out,  Zara?" 
If  you  refuse  to  notice  the  mean  things  people 
do  when  they  don’t  succeed  in  hurting  you,  it’s 
just  as  if  you  didn’t  know  anything  about  it, 
isn’t  it?  And  if  the  stone  was  thrown,  and  you 
saw  it,  and  knew  who’d  thrown  it,  you’d  be  angry 
—but  you  could  get  over  it  by  just  making  up 
your  mind  to  forget  it,  and  acting  as  if  they’d, 
never  done  it  at  all.” 

Zara  didn’t  answer  for  a minute.  She  was 
thinking  that  over. 

“I  guess  you’re  right,  Bessie,”  she  said,  finally. 
“That  is  the  best  way  to  do.  When  I get  angry 
I get  all  hot  inside,  and  I feel  dreadful.  I’m  go- 
ing to  try  not  to  lose  my  temper  any  more.” 

“You’ll  be  a lot  happier  if  you  do  that,”  said 
Bessie.  “Now,  let’s  get  back  to  the  fire.  I’ve 
got  this  water,  and  they  must  be  waiting  for  it.” 

So  Zara,  happy  again,  and  laughing  now, 
helped  Bessie  with  the  pail  of  water,  and  they 
went , back  to  the  fire  together.  Everyone  was 
busy,  each  with  some  appointed  task.  Two  of  the 
girls  were  spreading  knives  and  forks,  and  laying 
.out  cups  and  dishes  in  a great  circle  near  the 


THE  CAMP  EIRE  GIRLS 


water,  since  all  the  meals  were  eaten  Indian 
fashion,  sitting  on  the  ground.  Others,  who  had  - 
been  fishing,  were  displaying  their  catch,  and 
cleaning  the  gleaming  trout,  soon  to  be  cooked 
with  crisp  bacon,  and  to  form  the  chief  dish  of 
the  evening  meal. 

Wanaka  smiled  at  them 


as  the  two  girls  ap- 


peared with  the  water. 

“You’re  making  a good  start  as  Camp  Fire  J 
Girls,”  she  told  them.  “We  all  try  to  help.  Later 
on,  if  you  like,  I’ll  give  you  a lesson  in  cooking.” 

Bessie  smiled,  but  said  nothing.  And  present- 
ly she  called  to  Zara  and  disappeared  with  her 
in  the  woods. 

“I  want  to  give  them  a surprise,  Zara,”  she 
said.  “There’s  quite  a long  time  yet  before 
supper.  And  I saw  an  apple  tree  when  I was 
walking  through  the  woods.  Let’s  go  and  get 
some  of  them.” 

Zara  was  quite  willing,  and  in  half  an  hour  or 
less  the  two  girls  were  back  in  camp  with  a good 
load  of  apples.  Then  Bessie  spoke  to  Wanaka 
when  the  Guardian  was  alone  for  the  moment. 

“May  I have  some  flour  and  sugar?”  she  said. 

Wanaka  looked  at  her  curiously,  but  gave  her 
what  she  wanted.  And  Bessie,  finding  a smooth 
white  board,  was  soon  busy  rolling  pastry.  Then 
when  she  had  made  a great  deep  dish  pie,  and 
filled  it  with  the  apples,  which  Zara,  meanwhile, 
had  pared  and  cut,  Bessie  set  to  work  on  what  was 


IN  THE  WOODS 


53 


the  most  difficult  part  of  her  task.  First  she  dug 
out  a hole  in  the  ground  and  made  a fire,  small, 
but  very  hot,  and,  in  a short  time,  with  the  aid  of 
two  flat  stones,  she  had  constructed  a practicable 
outdoor  oven,  in  which  the  heat  of  the  embers  and 
cinders  was  retained  by  shutting  out  the  air  with 
earth.  Then  the  pie  was  put  in  and  covered  at 
once,  so  that  no  heat  could  escape,  and  Bessie, 
saying  nothing  about  what  she  had  done,  went 
back  to  help  the  others. 

Obeying  the  unwritten  rule  of  the  Camp  Fire, 
which  allows  the  girls  to  work  out  their  ideas 
unaided  if  they  possibly  can,  so  as  to  encourage 
self-reliance  and  independence,  Wanaka  did  not 
ask  her  what  she  had  done.  But  when  the  meal 
was  over  Bessie  slipped  away,  while  Wanaka  was 
serving  out  some  preserves,  and  returned  in  a 
moment,  bearing*  her  pie— nobly  browned,  with 
crisp,  flaky  crust. 

■ “I’ve  only  made  one  pie  like  this  before  and  I 
never  used  that  sort  of  an  oven,”  she  said,  shyly. 
“So  I don’t  know  if  it’s  very  good.  But  I thought 
I would  try  it.  ” 

Bessie,  however,  need  not  have  worried  about 
the  quality  of  that  pie.  The  rapidity  with  which 
it  disappeared  was  the  best  possible  evidence  of 
its  goodness,  and  Wanaka  qommended  her  before 
all  the  girls,  who  were  willibg  enough  to  join  the 
leader  in  singing  Bessie’s  praises. 

* ‘ My,  hut  that  was  good ! ’ ’ said  Minnehaha.  ‘ ‘ I 


54 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


wish  I could  make  a pie  like  that!  My  pastry  is 
always  heavy.  Will  you  show  me  how  when  we 
get  home,  Bessie?” 

‘ ‘ Indeed  I will ! ’ ’ promised  Bessie. 

And  that  night,  after  a spell  of  singing  and 
story  telling  about  the  great  fire  on  the  beach, 
Bessie  and  Zara  went  to  bed  with  thoughts  very 
different  from  those  they  had  had  the  night 
before. 

“Aren’t  they  good  to  us,  Zara?”  said  Bessie. 

“They’re  simply  wonderful,”  said  Zara,  with 
shining  eyes.  “And  Wan  aka  talked  to  me  about 
my  father.  She  says  she  has  a friend  in  the  city 
who’s  a lawyer,  and  that  as  soon  as  we  get  back 
she’ll  speak  to  him,  and  get  him  to  see  that  he  is 
fairly  treated.  I feel  ever  so  much  better.  ’ ’ 

The  voices  of  the  girls  all  about  them,  laughing 
and  singing  as  they  made  ready  for  the  night, 
and  the  kindly  words  of  Wanaka,  made  a great 
contrast  to  their  loneliness  of  the  night  before.. 
Then  everything  had  seemed  black  and  dismal. 
They  hadn’t  known  what  they  were  going  to  do, 
or  what  was  to  happen  to  them;  they  had  been 
hungry  and  tired,  and  with  no  prospect  of  break- 
fast when  they  got  up.  But  now  they  had  more 
friends,  gained  in  one  wonderful  day,  than  they 
had  made  before  in  all  their  lives,  and  Wanaka 
had  promised  to  see  that  in  the  future  there 
should  always  be  someone  to  guide  them  and  see 
that  nc  one  abused  them  any  more.  No  wonder; 


IN  THE  WOODS 


55 


that  they  looked  on  the  bright  camp  fire,  symbol 
of  all  the  happiness  that  had  come  to  them,  with 
happy  eyes.  And  they  listened  in  delight  as  the 
girls  gathered,  just  before  they  went  to  bed,  and 
sang  the  good-night  song : 

“Lay  me  to  sleep  in  sheltering  flame, 

Oh,  Master  of  the  Hidden  Fire. 

Wash  pure  my  heart  and  cleanse  for  me 
My  soul’s  desire. 

In  flame  of  sunrise  bathe  my  mind. 

Oh,  Master  of  the  Hidden  Fire, 

That  when  I wake,  clear  eyed  may  be 
My  soul’s  desire.” 

And  so,  with  the  flames’  light  flickering  before 
them,  Bessie  and  Zara  went  to  sleep  sure  of  happi- 
ness and  companionship  when  they  awoke  in  the 
morning,  with  the  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun 
shining  into  the  tents. 

But  Bessie  was  to  awake  before  that.  She  lay 
near  the  door  of  one  of  the  tents,  which  she  shared 
with  Zara,  Minnehaha,  and  two  other  girls,  and 
she  awoke  suddenly,  coming  at  once  to  full  con- 
sciousness, as  anyone  who  had  been  brought  up 
with  Maw  Hoover  to  wake  her  every  morning  was 
pretty  certain  to  do  at  any  unusual  sound.  For 
a moment,  so  deep  was  the  silence,  she  thought 
that  she  had  been  deceived.  In  the  distance  an. 
owl  called;  much  nearer,  there  was  an  answer.  A 
light  wind  rustled  in  the  trees,  stirring  the  leaves 
gently  as  it  moved.  Looking  out,  she  saw  that 
a faint,  silvery  sheen  still  bathed  the  ground  out- 


56 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


side,  showing  that  the  moon,  which  had  risen  late, 
was  not  yet  set. 

And  then  the  sound  that  had  awakened  her 
came  again— a curious,  hoarse  call,  given  in  imi- 
tation of  a whip-poor-will,  but  badly  done.  No 
bird  had  uttered  that  cry,  and  Bessie,  country 
bred,  listening  intently,  knew  it.  Silently  she  rose 
and  slipped  on  moccasins  that  belonged  to  Minne- 
haha, and  a dress.  And  then,  making  no  more 
noise  than  a cat  would  have  done,  she  crept  to  the 
opening  in  the  front  of  the  tent  and  peeped  out. 
For  Bessie  had  recognized  the  author  of  that  imi- 
tation of  the  bird’s  call,  and  she  knew  that  there 
was  mischief  afoot. 

Still  intent  on  keeping  the  alarm  she  felt  from 
the  others,  until  she  knew  whether  there  was  a 
real  cause  for  it,  Bessie  slipped  out  of  the  tent 
and  into  the  shadow  of  the  trees.  The  camp  fire 
still  burned,  flickering  in  the  darkness,  and  making 
great,  weird  shadows,  as  the  light  fell  upon  the 
trees.  It  had  been  built  up  and  banked  before  the 
camp  went  to  sleep,  and  in  the  morning  it  would 
still  he  burning,  although  faintly,  ready  for  the 
first  careful  attentions  of  the  appointed  Wood- 
Gatherers,  whose  duty  it  was  to  see  that  the  fire 
did  not  die. 

Bessie,  fearing  that  she  might  be  spied  upon, 
had  to  keep  in  the  darkness,  and  she  twisted  and 
turned  from  the  trunk  of  one  tree  to  the  next, 
bending  over  close  to  the  ground  when  she  had  to 


IN  THE  WOODS 


57 


cross  an  open  space  where  firelight  or  moonbeams 
might  reveal  her  to  watching  eyes. 

And  now  and  again,  crudely  given,  as  crudely 
answered,  from  further  down  the  lake,  the  call  of 
the  mock  whip-poor-will  guided  her  in  her  quest. 
And  Bessie,  plucking  up  all  the  courage  she  could 
muster,  still  trembled  slightly,  more  from  ner- 
vousness than  from  actual  fear,  for  she  knew 
whose  voice  it  was  that  was  imitating  the  plaintive 
bird — Jake  Hoover’s! 

All  Hedgeville,  as  she  well  knew,  must  know 
that  this  camp  of  girls  was  at  the  lake— and  it 
would  be  just  like  Jake  and  some  of  the  bullying, 
reckless  crowd  of  boys  that  he  made  his  chief 
friends,  to  think  that  it  would  be  a fine  joke  to 
play  some  tricks  on  the  sleeping  camp,  and  alarm 
these  girls  who  were  trying  to  enjoy  themselves 
with  outdoor  life,  just  as  if  they  had  been  boys. 
Bessie,  setting  her  teeth,  determined  that  they 
shouldn’t  succeed,  that  in  some  fashion  she  would 
turn  the  joke  on  them. 

Gradually  she  drew  nearer  to  the  sound,  and 
she  made  up  her  mind,  thankfully,  that  she  had 
waked  in  time,  before  all  the  jokers  had  arrived. 
She  had  snatched  up  a sheet  as  she  left  the  camp, 
without  a clear  idea  of  what  she  meant  to  do  with 
it,  but  now,  as  she  stole  among  the  trees,  a dim 
figure,  flitting  from  one  dark  place  to  the  next, 
a wild  idea  formed  in  her  mind. 

It  was  risky— but  Bessie  was  not  timid.  If 


58 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


•Jake  Hoover  caught  her— well,  she  knew  what 
that  would  mean.  He  would  not  spare  her,  as  his 
father  had  done,  and  there  would  be  trouble  for 
her,  and  for  Zara  and,  worst  of  all,  for  Wanaka 
and' her  other  new  friends.  And  there  was  an- 
other danger.  It  might  not,  after  all,  be  Jake 
Hoover  that  she  heard. 

At  the  Hoovers  ’ she  had  heard  stories  of  tramps 
and  wandering  gypsies,  and  she  had  been  warned, 
whenever  there  was  a report  that  any  such 
vagrants  were  about,  to  keep  off  the  roads  and 
stay  near  the  house.  Jake,  after  all,  could  only 
betray  her  to  his  mother  and  the  others  who  were 
after  her,  but  a tramp  or  a gypsy  might  do  far 
worse  than  that.  But,  though  the  solitude  and 
the  darkness  were  enough  to  frighten  people  older 
and  stronger  than  Bessie,  she  kept  on.  And  at 
last,  before  her,  she  heard  footsteps  tramping 
down  the  dry  leaves  and  branches,  and  she  heard 
a murmur  of  voices,  too. 

At  once  part  of  her  fears  fled,  for  it  was  Jake 
Hoover’s  voice  that  came  to  her  ears. 

“Ha-ha!”  he  was  laughing.  “Gee,  it  took  you 
fellers  long  enough  to  git  here.  But,  say,  boys, 
won’t  we  have  some  fun  with  them  girls?  Actin’ 
up  iust  like  they  was  boys,  sleepin’  out  in  the 
woods  an’  pretendin’  they’re  as  brave  as  anythin’. 
I saw  that  one  that  bought  a l©t  of  truck  from  Paw 
to-day.  Bet  she’ll  scream  as  loud  as  any  of 
them.” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


59 


i ‘Bet  she  will,”  said  another  voice.  “Say, 
Jake,  we  won’t  hurt  ’em  none,  will  we?  Jest 
throw. a scare  into  them,  like?” 

- “Sure,  that’s  all!” 

“ ’Cause  I wouldn’t  want  to  hurt  ’em  none. 
They’re  jest  girls,  after  all.” 

“All  we’ll  do  will  he  just  to  get  around  them 
tents  an’  start  yellin’  all  at  once— an’  I’ll  bet 
they’ll  come  a’  runnin’.  5a-ha!” 

But  the  laugh  was  frozen  on  his  lips.  As  he 
spoke  he  looked  behind  him,  warned  by  a faint 
sound— and  his  hair  rose.  For  waving  its  arms 
wildly,  a figure,  all  in  white,  was  running  toward 
him.  As  it  came  it  made  strange,  unearthly 
sounds— horrid  noises,  such  as  Jake  had  never 
heard. 

For  a moment  Jake  and  the  two  boys  with  him 
stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  paralyzed  with  fear. 
Then  they  yelled  together,  and,  the  sound  of 
their  own  voices  seeming  to  release  their  im- 
prisoned feet,  turned  and  ran  wildly,  not  know- 
ing where  they  were  going. 

They  tripped  over  roots,  fell,  then  stumbled  to 
their  feet  again,  and  continued  their  flight,  shriek- 
ing. And  behind  them  the  ghost,  weak  with 
laughter,  collapsed  on  a fallen  tree  trunk  and 
laughed  silently  as  they  fled— for  the  ghost  that 
had  frightened  these  bold  raiders  was  only  Bessie, 
wrapped  in  the  sheet  she  had  so  luckily  snatched 
up  when  they  had  given  her  the  alarm. 


CHAPTER  VI 


A PIECE  OF  BAD  LUCK 

Bessie  laughed  until  she  cried  as  the  bold  raid- 
ers who  had  been  so  sure  that  they  could  scare  the 
camp  of  girls  dashed  madly  off.  She  could  hear 
them  long  after  they  had  vanished  from  sight, 
crying  out  in  their  fear,  plunging  among  the  trees, 
but  gradually  the  sounds  grew  fainter,  and  Bessie* 
sure  that  they  need  fear  no  more  disturbance  from 
Jake  Hoover  and  his  brave  companions,  set  out 
on  her  return  to  the  camp.  This  time  she  had 
no  need  of  the  precautions  she  had  taken  as  she 
crept  in  the  direction  of  the  disturbing  sounds, 
and  she  made  no  effort  to  conceal  herself. 

Wanaka  was  outside,  looking  about  anxiously, 
when  Bessie  came  again  into  the  firelight.  Always 
a light  sleeper,  and  especially  so  when  she  was 
responsible  for  the  safety  of  the  girls  who  were 
in  her  charge,  Eleanor  Mercer  had  waked  at  the 
first  of  Bessie’s  terrifying  shrieks,  almost  as 
frightened,  for  the  moment,  as  Jake  himself.  She 
had  risen  at  once,  and  a glance  in  the  various 
tents,  where  the  girls  still  lay  sound  asleep,  showed 
her  that  Bessie  alone  was  missing. 

Naturally  enough,  she  could  not  guess  the  mean- 

60 


IN  TUB  WOODS 


61 


ing  of  the  outcry.  The  cries  of  the  frightened 
jokers  puzzled  her,  and  there  was  nothing  about 
the  din  that  Bessie  made  to  enable  the  Guardian 
to  recognize  the  voice  of  her  newest  recruit.  But 
she  had  realized,  too,  that  to  go  out  in  the  woods 
in  search  of  Bessie  and  of  an  explanation,  was 
not  likely  to  do  much  good.  Her  duty,  too,  was 
with  the  girls  who  remained,  and  she  could  only 
wait,  wondering.  She  greeted  Bessie  with  a glad 
cry  when  she  saw  her. 

‘ * Oh,  I ’m  so  glad ! ’ ’ she  exclaimed.  ‘ ‘ But  what 
are  you  doing  with  that  sheet?  And — why,  you’re 
crying ! ’ ’ 

“I’m  not— really,”  said  Bessie.  “But  I 
laughed  so  hard  that  it  made  the  tears  come — 
that’s  all,  Wanaka.” 

Then  she  told  her  story,  and  Wanaka  had  to 
laugh,  too.  She  was'  greatly  relieved. 

“But  you  ought  to  have  called  me,  Bessie,” 
she  said.  “That’s  why  I’m  here,  you  know — to 
look  out  for  things  when  there  seems  to  be  any 
danger,  or  anything  you  girls  don’t  quite  under- 
stand. ’ ’ 

“But  I wasn’t  quite  sure,  you  see,”  said  Bessie. 
“And  if  it  had  really  been  a bird,  it  would  have 
been  awfully  foolish  to  wake  everyone  up  just 
because  I thought  I heard  something.” 

“You’ll  be  able  to  win  a lot  of  honors  easily, 
Bessie,  when  you  come  into  the  Camp  Fire. 
That’s  one  of  the  things  the  girls  do— they  learn. 


m 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


the  calls  of  the  birds,  and  to  describe  them  and 
all  sorts  of  things  about  the  trees  and  the  flowers. 
You  must  know  a lot  of  them  already.” 

“ I ' guess  everyone  does  who ’s  lived  in  the 
■country.  Some  people  can  imitate  a bird  so  it 
would  almost  fool  another  bird— but  not  Jake. 
He’s  stupid.” 

“Yes,  and  like  most  people  who  try  to  frighten 
others,  he’s  a coward,  too,  Bessie.  He  showed 
that  to-night.” 

“I’m  not  afraid  of  him  any  more.  If  I’d  known 
before  how  easy  it  was  to  frighten  him  I’d  have 
-done  it.  Then  he’d  have  let  me  alone,  probably.” 

“Well,  you  go  to  bed  now,  and  get  to  sleep 
again.  And  try  to  forget  about  Jake  and  all  the 
•other  people  who  have  been  unkind  to  you.  Re- 
member that  you’re  safe  with  us  now.  We’ll 
look  after  you.” 

“I  know  that,  and  I can’t  tell  you  how  good  it 
makes  me  feel.” 

Wanaka  laughed  then,  to  herself. 

“I  say  we’ll  look  after  you,”  she  said,  still 
smiling.  “But  so  far  it  looks  more  as  if  you 
were  going  to  look  after  us.  You  saved  Minne- 
haha in  the  lake— and  to-night  you  saved  all  the 
girls  from  being  frightened.  But  we’ll  have  to 
begin  doing  our  share  before  long.” 

“As  if  you  hadn’t  done  a lot  more  for  me 
already  than  I’ll  ever  be  able  to  repay!”  said 


IN  THE  WOODS 


63 


Bessie.  “And  I know  it,  too.  Please  be  sure  of 
that.  Good-night.  ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Good-night,  Bessie.  ’ ’ 

In  the  morning  Bessie  and  Zara  woke  with  the 
sun  shining  in  their  faces,  and  for  a long  minute, 
they  lay  quiet,  staring  out  at  the  dancing  water, 
and  trying  to  realize  all  that  happened  since  they 
had  said  good-bye  to  Hedgeville. 

“Just  think,  Zara,  it’s  only  the  day  before 
yesterday  that  all  those  things  happened,  and  it 
seems  like  ever  so  long  to  me.” 

“It  does  to  me,  too,  Bessie.  But  I’ll  be  glad 
when  we  get  away  from  here.  It’s  awfully  close. 
And,  Zara,  Jake  Hoover  was  around  here  last 
night ! ’ ’ 

“Does  he  know  you’re  here?  Was  that  why  he 
came  ? ’ ’ 

“No,”  said  Bessie,  laughing  again  at  the  mem- 
ory of  the  ghost.  And  she  told  Zara  what  had 
happened. 

“He  won’t  come  around  again  at  night,  but  it 
would  be  just  like  him  to  snoop  around  here  in  the 
daytime,  Bessie.” 

“I  hadn’t  thought  of  that,  Zara.  But  he  might. 
If  he  stops  to  think  and  realizes  that  someone 
turned  his  own  trick  against  him,  or  if  he  tells 
someone,  and  they  laugh  at  him,  he’ll  want  to  get. 
even.  I’d  certainly  hate  to  have  him  see  one 
of  us.” 

But  their  fears  were  groundless.  For,  as  soon 


64 


THE  CAMP  PIKE  GIRLS 


as  breakfast  was  over,  Wanaka  called  all  the  girls 
together. 

“We’ve  going  to  move,”  she  said.  “I  know 
we  meant  to  stay  here  longer,  but  Bessie  and 
Zara  will  be  happier  if  we’re  somewhere  else. 
So  we  will  go  on  to-day,  instead  of  waiting.  And 
I’ve  a pleasant  surprise  for  you,  too,  I think.  No, 
I won’t  tell  you  about  it  now.  You’ll  have  to  wait 
until  you  see  it.  Hurry  up  and  clean  camp  now, 
and  begin  packing.  We  want  to  start  as  soon  as 
we  can.” 

Bessie  was  amazed  to  see  how  complete  the 
arrangements  for  packing  were.  Everything 
seemed  to  have  its  place,  and  to  be  so  made  that 
it  could  go  info  the  smallest  space  imaginable. 
The  tents  were  taken  down,  divided  into  single 
sections  that  were  not  at  all  heavy,  and  everything 
else  had  been  made  on  the  same  plan. 

“But  how  about  the  canoes'?”  asked  Bessie. 
“We  Can’t  carry  those  with  us,  can  we?” 

“I’ve  often  carried  one  over  a portage— a short 
walk  from  one  lake  to  the  next  in  the  woods,” 
said  Minnehaha,  laughing.  “It’s  a lot  easier  than 
it  looks.  Once  you  get  it  on  your  back,  it  balances 
so  easily  that  it  isn’t  hard  at  all.  And  up  in  the 
woods  the  guides  have  boats  that’  they  carry  that 
way  for  miles,  and  they  say  they’re  easier  to 
handle  than  a heavy  pack.  But  those  boats  are 
very  light.” 

“But  we’ll  leave  them  here,  anyhow,”  said  an- 


IN  THE  WOODS 


65 


other  girl.  “They  don’t  belong  to  ns.  They  were 
just  lent  to  us  by  some  people  from  the  city  who 
come  here  to  camp  every  summer.  They  own 
this  land,  too,  and  they  let  us  use  it.” 

And  then  Bessie  saw,  as  the  first  canoe  was 
brought  in,  the  clever  hiding-place  that  had  been 
devised  for  the  boats.  They  were  dragged  up, 
and  carried  into  the  woods  a little  way,  and  there 
a couple  of  fallen  trees  had  been  so  arranged  that 
they  made  a shelter  for  the  canoes.  A few  boards 
were  spread  between  the  trunks,  and  covered  with 
earth  and  branches  so  it  seemed  that  shrubbery 
had  grown  up  over  the  place  where  the  canoes  lay. 

“In  the  winter,  of  course,  the  people  that  own 
them  take  them  away  where  they’ll  be  safe.  But 
they  leave  them  out  like  that  most  of  the  summer. 
Some  of  them  come  here  quite  often,  and  it  would 
be  a great  nuisance  to  have  to  drag  the  canoes 
along  every  time  they  come  and  go.  ’ ’ 

Long  before  noon  everything  was  ready,  and 
Wanaka,  who  bad  gone  away  for  a time,  returned. 

“You  and  Zara  look  so  different  that  I don’t 
believe  anyone  would  recognise  either  of  you,” 
she  told  Bessie.  “You  look  just  like  the  rest  of 
the  girls.  So,  even  if  we  should  meet  anyone  who 
knows  you,  I think  you’d  he  safe  enough.” 

“Not  if  it  was  Maw  Hoover,”  said  Zara  so 
earnestly  that  Wanaka  laughed,  although  she  felt 
that  there  was  something  pathetic  about  Zara’s 
fear  of  the  farmer’s  wife,  too. 


66 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“Well,  we’re  not  going  to  meet  her,  anyhow,. 
Zara.  And  she’d  never  expect  to  find  yon  and 
Bessie  among  us,  anyhow.  We  aren’t  going  across 
the  lake  and  over  to  the  main  road.  We’re  going 
right  through  the  woods  to  the  next  valley.  It’s 
going  to  be  a long  day’s  trip,  but  it’s  cool,  and  I 
think  a good  long  tramp  will  do  us  all  good.” 

“That’s  fine,”  said  Bessie.  “No  one  over  there 
will  know  anything  about  us.  Is  that  why  we 
made  so  many  sandwiches  and  things  like  that— 
so  that  we  could  eat  our  lunch  on  the  way?” 

“Yes,  and  we’ll  build  a fire  and  have  some- 
thing hot,  too.  Now  you  can  watch  us  put  out 
the  fire.” 

“I  hate  to  see  it  go  out,”  said  Zara.  “I  love 
the  fire.” 

“We  all  do,  but  we  must  never  leave  a fire 
without  someone  to  tend  it.  Fire  is  a'  great  ser- 
vant, but  we  must  use  it  properly.  And  a little 
fire,  even  this  one  of  ours,  might  start  a bad 
blaze  in  the  woods  here  if  we  left  it  behind  us.” 

Bessie  nodded  wisely. 

“We  had  an  awful  bad  fire  here  two  or  three- 
years  ago.  It  was  just  before  Zara  came  out 
here.  Someone  was  out  in  the  woods  hunting,  or 
something  like  that,  and  they  left  a fire,  and  the 
wind  came  up  and  set  the  trees  on  fire.  It  burned 
for  three  or  four  days,  and  all  the  men  in  the 
town  had  to  turn  out  to  save  some  of  the  places 
near  the  woods.” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


6 £ 

“Almost  all  the  big  fires  in  the  forests  star  I 
because  someone  is  careless  just  like  that,  Bessie.. 
They  don’t  mean  any  harm— but  they  don’t  stop 
to  think.” 

Then  all  the  girls  gathered  about  the  fire,  and 
each  in  turn  did  her  part  in  stamping  out  the 
glowing  embers.  They  sang  as  they  did  this  duty,, 
and  Bessie  felt  again  the  curious  thrill  that  had 
stirred  her  when  she  had  heard  the  good-night 
song  the  evening  before. 

“I  know  what  it  is  that  is  so  splendid  about  the 
Camp  Fire  Girls,  Zara,”  she  said,  suddenly.. 
“They  belong  to  one  another,  and  they  do  things 
together.  That’s  what  counts — that’s  why  they 
look  so  happy.  We’ve  never  had  anything  to  be- 
long to,  you  and  I,  anything  like  this.  Don’t  you 
see  what  I mean?” 

“Yes,.  I do,  Bessie.  And  that’s  what  makes  it 
seem  so  easy  when  they  work.  They’re  doing 
things  together,  and  each  of  them  has  something 
to  do  at  the  same  time  that  all  the  others  are- 
working,  too.” 

“Why,  I just  loved  washing  the  dishes  this  morn- 
ing,” said  Bessie,  smiling  at  the  thought.  “I 
never  felt  like  that  before,  when  Maw  Hoover  was 
always  at  me  to  do  them,  so  that  I could  hurry 
up  and  do  something  else  when  I got  through. 
And  I did  them  faster  here,  too — much  faster. 
Just  because  I enjoyed  it,  and  it  seemed  like  the1 
most  natural  thing  to  do.” 


€8  THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 

“I  always  did  feel  that  way,  but  then  I only 
worked  for  myself  and  my  father,”  said  Zara. 

Then  the  walk  through  the  cool,  green  woods 
began.  The  girls  started  out  in  Indian  file,  but 
presently  the  trail  broadened,  so  that  they  could 
walk  two  or  three  abreast.  It  was  not  long  before 
they  came  into  country  that  Bessie  had  never 
seen,  well  as  she  knew  the  woods  near  the  Hoover 
farmhouse. 

Wanaka,  careful  lest  too  steady  a walk  should 
tire  the  girls,  called  a halt  at  least  once  an  hour, 
and,  when  the  trail  led  up  hill,  oftener.  And  at 
each  halt  one  girl  or  another,  who  had  been  de- 
tailed  at  the  last  stop,  reported  on  the  birds  and 
wild  animals  she  had  seen  since  the  last  check, 
and,  when  she  had  done,  all  the  others  were  called 
on  to  tell  if  they  had  seen  any  that  she  had  missed. 

“It’s  just  like  a game,  isn’t  it?”  said  Zara.  “I 
think  it’s  great  fun!” 

The  halt  for  lunch  was  made  after  they  had 
come  out  of  the  woods,  by  the  side  of  a clear 
spring.  They  were  on  a bluff,  high  above  a wind- 
ing country  road,  with  a path  worn  by  the  feet  of 
thirsty  passersby  who  knew  of  the  spring,  and 
some  thoughtful  person  had  piped  the  water  down 
to  a big  trough  where  horses  could  drink.  But 
they  could  not,  from  the  place  where  the  fire  had 
been  made,  see  the  road  or  the  carriages. 

“I  don’t  think  anyone  will  come  along  looking 


IN  THE  WOODS 


69 


for  yon,”  Wan  aka  told  Bessie,  “but  if  we  stay 
out  of  sight  we’ll  surely  be  on  the  safe  side.” 

Suddenly,  as  they  were  about  to  sit  down,  Zara 
cried  out. 

“My  handkerchief!”  she  said.  “It’s  gone — 
and  I had  it  just  before  we  crossed  the  road.  I 
must  have  dropped  it  there.  I’ll  go  back  and 
see.  ’ ’ 

“I’ll  go  with  you,”  cried  Bessie,  jumping  up. 
But  before  she  could  move,  Zara,  laughing,  had 
dashed  off,  and  Bessie  dropped  back  to  her  place 
with  a smile. 

“She’s  as  quick  as  a.  flash,”  she  said.  “She 
always  could  beat  me  in  a race.  There’s  no  use 
in  my  going  after  her.  ’ ’ 

But,  even  as  she  spoke,  a wild  cry  of  terror 
reached  their  ears— that  and  the  sound  of  a man’s 
coarse  laughter.  Bessie  started  to  her  feet,  her 
eyes  staring  in  fright.  And  she  led  the  rush  of 
the  whole  party  to  the  edge  of  the  bluff. 

Driving  swiftly  down  the  road  away  from 
Hedgeville  was  a runabout.  And  in  it  Bessie 
saw  Zara,  held  fast  by  a big  man  whose  back  she 
recognized  at  cnee.  It  was  Parmer  Weeks! 

“Oh,  that’s  Parmer  Weeks!”  she  cried.  “He’ll 
get  them  to  give  Zara  to  him,  and  he’ll  beat  her 
and  treat  her  terribly.” 

Despairingly  she  made  to  run  after  the  dis- 
appearing horse.  But  Wanaka  checked  her, 
gently. 

“We  must  be  careful— and  slow,”  she  said. 


CHAPTER  VII 


A FRIEND  IN  NEED 

“But  we  must  do  something,  really  we  must. 
Miss  Eleanor!”  cried  Bessie.  “I  must,  I mean. 
Zara  trusted  me,  and  if  I don’t  help  her  now, 
just  think  of  what  will  happen.” 

“You  must  keep  calm,  Bessie,  that’s  the  first 
thing  to  think  of.  If  you  let  yourself  get  excited 
and  worked  up  you  won’t  help  Zara,  and  you’ll 
only  get  into  trouble  yourself.  You  say  she  trusted 
you— now  you  must  trust  me  a little.  Tell  me, 
first,  just  what  this  man  will  do  and  if  he  has 
any  right  at  all  to  touch  her.” 

“Why,  he’s  the  meanest  man  in  town,  Wanaka! 
He  really  is— everyone  says  so!  None  of  the 
men  would  work  for  him  in  harvest  time.  They 
said  he  worked  them  to  death  and  wouldn’t  give 
them  enough  to  eat.” 

“Yes,  but  why  should  he  pick  Zara  up  that  way 
and  carry  her  off?” 

“Because  he  wants  to  make  her  work  for  him. 
He ’s  awfully  rich,  and  Paw  Hoover  said  he ’d  lent 
money  to  so  many  men  in  the  village  and  all 
around  that  they  had  to  do  just  what  he  told  them, 
or  he’d  sell  their  land  and  their  horses  and  cattle. 


70 


IN  THE  WOODS 


71 


And  lie  said  he’d  make  the  people  at  the  poor- 
farm  bind  Zara  over  to  him  and  then  she’d  have 
to  work  for  him  until  she  was  twenty-one,  just 
for  her  board.” 

“That’s  pretty  serious,  Bessie.  I’m  sure  he 
wouldn’t  be  a good  guardian,  but  if  he  had  such 
influence  over  the  men,  maybe  they  wouldn’t  stop 
to  think  about  that.” 

She  was  silent  for  a minute,  thinking  hard. 

“Where  was  he  going  with  her,  Bessie!  He 
seemed  to  be  driving  away  from  Iiedgeville.  ” 

“Yes,  he  was.  I suppose  he  was  going  over 
to  Zebulon.  That’s  the  county  seat,  and  he  goes 
over  there  quite  often.  Almost  every  time  they 
hold  court,  I guess.  Paw  Hoover  said  he  was  a 
mighty  bad  neighbor,  always  getting  into  law- 
suits. ’ ’ 

“Well,  I think  I’d  better  go  to  Zebulon.  If  I 
talk  to  him,  perhaps  I can  make  him  give  Zara 
up.  How  far  is  it,  Bessie!” 

“Only  about  two  miles.  But  if  you  go,  can’t 
I go  with  you!” 

“I  think  I’d  better  go  alone,  Bessie.  If  he  saw 
you,  he  might  try,  to  take  you  back  to  the  Hoovers, 
you  know.  No,  I’ll  go  alone.  If  it’s  oiiiy  two 
miles,  it  won’t  take  me  long  to  walk  there,  and 
I can  get  someone  to  drive  me  back.  Girls!” 

They  crowded  about  her. 

“I’m  going  away  for  a little  while.  You  are 
to  stay  here  and  wait  for  me.  And  keep  close 


72 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


together.  I’ll  get  bask  as  soon  as  I can.  And 
while  I ’m  gone  yon  can  clear  up  the  mess  we 
made  with  luncheon— when  you’ve  finished  it,  I 
mean.  How,  you’d  better  hurry  up  and  eat  it. 
I won’t  wait.” 

And  the  Guardian  hurried  oft,  determined  to 
rescue  Zara  from  the  clutches  of  the  old  miser 
who  was  so  anxious  to  make  her  work  for  him, 
because  he  saw  a chance  to  get  a good  deal  for 
nothing,  or  almost  nothing.  If  the  general  opin- 
ion about  Silas  "Weeks  was  anywhere  near  true, 
it  would  cost  him  mighty  little  to  satisfy  himself 
that  he  was  keeping  faith  with  the  county  and 
giving  Zara,  in  return  for  her  services,  good 
board,  lodging,  and  clothing. 

Bessie  watched  Wanaka  go  off,  and  she  tried  to 
convince  herself  that  everything  would  be  all  right. 
But,  strong  as  was  the  faith  she  already  had  in 
Miss  Mercer,  she  knew  the  ways  of  Silas  Weeks 
too  well  to  be  really  confident.  And  she  couldn’t 
get  rid  of  the  feeling  that  she,  and  no  one  else, 
was  responsible  for  Zara.  It  was  because  of  her 
that  Zara  had  come  away,  and  Bessie  felt  that 
•she  should  make  sure,  herself,  that  Zara  didn’t 
have  cause  to  regret  the  decision. 

And  then,  suddenly,  too,  another  thought  struck 
her.  What  if  she  had,  without  intention,  misled 
Miss  Eleanor?  Suppose  Farmer  Weeks  didn’t 
go  to  Zebulon  at  all?  It  was  possible,  for  Bessie 
remembered  now  that  three-quarters  of  a mile  or 


IN  THE  WOODS 


73 


so  along  the  road  was  a crossroad  that  would  lead 
him,  should  he  turn  there,  back  to  Hedgeville. 

With  the  thought  Bessie  could  no  longer  remain- 
still.  She  knew  the  roads,  and  she  determined 
that  she  must  at  least  find  out  where  Zara  had 
been  taken.  She  might  not  be  able  to  help  her' 
herself,  but  she  could  get  the  news,  the  true  news,, 
for  those  who  could.  And,  saying  nothing  to  any' 
of  the  other  girls,  lest  they  should  want  to  come 
with  her,  she  slipped  off  silently. 

She  did  not  descend  to  the  road.  If  one  farmer 
from  Hedgeville  had  passed  already,  others  might 
follow  in  his  wake,  and  Bessie  was  fiercely  deter- 
mined not  to  let  anything  check  her  or  interfere 
.with  her  until  she  knew  what  had  become  of  Zara. 

So,  although  she  might  have  been  able  to  traveL 
faster  by  the  road,  Bessie  stayed  above,  and 
hurried  along,  making  the  best  progress  she  could, 
although  the  going  was  rough.  She  could  see, 
without  being  seen.  If  anyone  who  threatened 
her  liberty  came  along,  she  could  hide  easily 
enough  behind  a tree  or  a clump  of  bushes. 

At  the  crossroad  she  hesitated.  She  wasn’t 
sure  that  Farmer  Weeks  had  turned  off.  He  might 
very  well,  as  she  had  thought  at  first,  have  been 
on  his  way  to  Zebulon. 

“ W7hat  a stupid  I am!”  she  thought  in  a mo- 
ment, however,  “©f  course  I ought  to  take  the 
crossroad!  If  he’s  gone  to  Zebulon  Wanaka  will 
find  him,  and  if  he  hasn’t,  he  must  have  gone  this 


74 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIRLS 


way.  If  I turn  off  here,  there’ll  be  someone  after 
Mm,  no  matter  which  way  he’s  gone.” 

So,  still  keeping  to  the  side  of  the  road,  she 
followed  the  pointer  on  the  signboard  which  said, 
“Hedgeville,  six  miles.” 

About  a mile  and  a half  from  the  crossroads 
the  road  Bessie  was  now  following  crossed  a rail- 
road, and  as  she  neared  that  spot  she  moved  as 
carefully  as  she  could,  for  a suspicion  that  gave 
her  a ray  of  hope  was  rising  in  her  mind.  At  the 
^railroad  crossing  there  was  a little  settlement  and 
;an  inn  that  was  very  popular  with  automobilists. 
And  Bessie  thought  it  was  possible  that  Farmer 
Weeks  might  have  stopped  there.  Miser  as  he 
was,  he  was  fond  of  good  food,  and,  since  he  was 
his  own  cook  most  of  the  time  when  he  was  at 
home,  he  didn’t  get  much  of  it  except  when  he  was 
away,  as  he  was  now.  Bessie  had  heard  Maw 
Hoover  sneer  at  him  more  than  once  for  the  way 
he  hinted  for  an  invitation  to  dinner  or  supper. 

“Old  skinflint!”  Bessie  had  heard  Maw  say. 
“I  notice  he  has  a way  of  forgettin’  anythin’  be 
wants  to  tell  Paw  till  jest  before  meal  time.  Then 
he  comes  over  post  haste,  and  nothin’ll  do  bn.; 
Paw’s  got  to  stand  out  there  listenin’  to  him,  when 
all  he  wants,  really,  is  to  have  me  ring  the  bell, 
so’s  Paw’ll  have  to  ask  him  to  stay.” 

Even  in  her  sorrow  at  Zara’s  plight,  Bessie 
couldn’t  help  laughing  at  the  remembrance  of 
those  times.  But  then  the  smoke  of  the  inn  came 


IN  THE  WOODS  15 

In  sight,  and  Bessie  forgot  everything  hut  the 
need  of.  caution.  If  Farmer  Weeks  were  there, 
he  must  on  no  account  see  her.  That  would  end 
any  chance  she  had  of  helping  Zara. 

She  crept  through  a grove  of  trees  that  sur- 
rounded the  inn,  to  work  up  behind  it.  In  the 
rear,  as  she  knew,  were  the  stables,  and  the  place 
where  the  automobiles  of  the  guests  were  kept. 
She  wanted  to  get'  a look  at  the  horses  and  car- 
riages that  were  tied  in  the  shed  for  she  would 
know  Farmer  Weeks’  rig  anywhere,  she  was  sure. 
But  she  had  to  be  careful,  for  the  inn  was  a busy 
spot,  and  around  the  horses  and  the  autos,  espe- 
cially, were  lots  of  men,  working,  smoking,  loaf- 
ing—and  any  one  of  them,  Bessie  felt  sure,  was 
certain  to  question  her  if  they  saw  her  prowling 
about. 

She  got  behind  the  shed,  and  then  she  had  to 
work  along  to  the  end  farthest  from  the  direction 
of  the  road  she  had  left,  since,  at  the  near  end,  a 
group  of  men  were  sitting  down  and  eating  their 
lunch.  But,  with  the  shed  full  of  horses  making 
plenty  of  noise,  to  screen  her  movements,  that 
wasn’t  so  difficult.  Bessie  managed  it  all  right, 
and,  when  she  got  to  the  far  end,  and  had  a chance 
to  peep  at  the  horses,  her  heart  leaped  joyfully, 
for  she  saw  within  a few  feet  of  her  Farmer 
Weeks’  horse  and  buggy,  the  buggy  sadly  in  need 
of  paint  and  repairs,  and  the  harness  a fair  indi- 
cation of  the  miserly  nature  of  its  owner,  since 


76 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


it  was  patched  in  a dozen  places  and  tied  together 
with  string  in  a dozen  others. 

“Well,  I know  that  much,  anyhow!”  said  Be:  d ■ 
to  herself.  “He  didn’t  take  her  to  Zebttloh, 
he  can’t  have  done  anything  yet.  I don’t  believe 
he’s  got  any  right  to  keep  her  that  way,  not  vnb?" 
the  people  at  the  poor-farm  give  him  the  right  to 
take  her.  Zara  hasn’t  done  anything— it  isn’t  as 
if  she’d  been  arrested,  and  were  running  away 
from  that.  ’ ’ 

Suddenly  Bessie  started  with  alarm.  She  had 
drawn  back  among  the  trees  to  hide  while  she 
tried  to  think  out  the  best  course  of  action  for 
her  to  take,  and  she  heard  someone  moving  quite 
close  to  her.  But  then,  as  the  one  who  had  fright- 
ened her  came  into  view,  she  smiled,  for  it  was 
only  a small  boy,  very  dirty  and  red  of  face,  his 
white  clothes  soiled,  but  looking  thoroughly 
happy,  just  the  same. 

“Hello!”  he  said,  staring  at  her. 

“Hello,  yourself!  'Where  did  you  come  from? 
And  wherever  did  you  get  all  that  dirt  on  your- 
self f ” 

‘ 4 Oh,  in  the  woods,  ’ ’ said  the  small  boy.  ‘ ‘ Say, 
my  name’s  Jack  Roberts,  and  my  pop  owns  that 
hotel  there.  What’s  your  name?  Bo  you  like 
cherries?  Can  you  climb  a tree?  Bid  you  ever 
go  out  in  the  woods  all  alone?  Can  you  swim?” 

“My,  my!  One  question  at  a time,”  laughed 
Bessie.  “I  love  cherries.  Have  you  got  some?” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


77 


“Bet  I have!”  he  said.  The  single  answer  to 
all  his  questions  seemed  to  satisfy  him  thoroughly, 
and  he  pulled  out  a great  handful  of  cherries 
from  his  straw  hat,  which  he  had  been  using  for 
a basket. 

“Here  you  are,”  he  said.  “Say,  do  you  know 
that  other  girl?” 

Bessie’s  heart  leaped  again.  She  felt  that  she 
had  struck  real  luck  at  last. 

“What  other  girl?”  she  asked,  but  even  as  she 
asked  the  question,  her  heart  sank  again.  He 
couldn’t  mean  Zara.  How  could  he  possibly 
know  anything  about  her? 

“She  was  dressed  just  like  you,”  he  said. 
“ And  she  had  black  hair  and  her  skin  was  dark. 
So  she  didn’t  look  like  you  at  all,  you  see.  She 
was  crying,  too.  Say,  aren’t  those  cherries  good? 
Why  don’t  you  eat  them!” 

Bessie  was  so  interested  and  excited  when  she 
heard  him  speak  of  Zara  that  she  forgot  to  eat 
the  cherries.  But  she  saw  that  she  had  hurt  his 
feelings  by  her  neglect  of  his  present,  and  she 
made  amends  at  once.  She  ate  several  of  them, 
and  smacked  her  lips. 

“They’re  splendid,  Jack!  They’re  the  best 
I’ve  eaten  this  year.  I think  you’re  lucky  to  be 
able  to  get  them.” 

Jack  was  delighted. 

“You  come  here  again  later  on  and  I’ll  give 
you  some  of  the  best  pears  you  ever  tasted.” 


78 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“Tell  me  some  more  about  tbe  girl,  Jack— the 
other  girl,  with  black  hair.  I think  perhaps  she’s 
a friend  of  mine.  Why  was  she  crying?” 

“I  don’t  know,  bnt  she  was.  She  was  going  on 
terrible.  And  she  was  with  her  pop,  I guess.  So 
I s’pose  she’d  just  been  naughty,  and  he’d  pun- 
ished her.” 

“Yvhat  makes  you  think  that,  Jack!” 

‘ ‘ Oh,  he  came  in,  and  he  talked  to  my  pop,  and 
they  both  laughed  and  looked  at  her.  He  had 
her  by  the  hand,  and  she  didn’t  say  anything— 
she  just  cried.  And  my  pop  says,  ‘Well,  I’ve 
got  just  the  place  for  her.  Too  bad  to  send  her 
off  without  her  dinner,  but  when  they’re  bad 
they’ve  got  to  be  punished.’  And  he  winked  at 
her,  but  she  didn’t  wink  back.” 

“What  happened  then,  Jack?” 

“They  put  her  up  in  my  room.  See,  you  can 
see  it  there,  right  over  the  tree  with  the  branch 
torn  off.  See  that  branch?  It  was  torn  off  in  that 
storm  yesterday.” 

“And  didn’t  she  have  any  dinner?” 

“Oh,  yes.  My  pop,  he  sent  her  some  dinner, 
of  course.  He  was  just  joking.  That’s  why  he 
winked  at  her.  He’d  never  let  anyone  go  hungry, 
my  pop  wouldn’t!” 

“What  sort  of  looking  man  brought  her  here, 
Jack?” 

“Oh,  he — he  was  just  a man.  He  had  white 
hair,  and  eye-glasses.  Say,  that’s  his  rig  right 


IN  THE  WOODS 


79 


there  in  the  corner  of  the  shed.  I don’t  think 
much  of  it,  do  you?” 

Bessie  wondered  what  she  should  do.  She  liked 
Jack,  and  she  was  sure  he  would  do  anything  he 
could  for  her.  But  he  was  only  a little  boy,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  that  would  not  be  very  much.  But 
he  was  her  only  hope,  and  she  decided  to  trust 
him. 

“Jack,”  she  said,  soberly,  “that  is  my  friend, 
and  I’ve  been  looking  for  her.  And  that  old  man 
isn’t  her  father  at  all.  He  wants  to  make  her  do 
something  horrid— something  she  doesn’t  want  to 
do  at  all.  And  if  she  doesn’t  get  away,  I’m  afraid 
he  will,  too.” 

“Say,  I didn’t  like  him  when  I first  saw  him! 
I’d  hate  to  have  him  for  a pop.  Why  doesn’t 
she  run  away?” 

“How  can  she,  Jack?” 

“Huh,  that’s  just  as  easy!  Why,  I never  go 
down  the  stairs  at  all,  hardly,  from  my  room. 
The  branches  of  that  big  tree  stick  right  over  to 
fhe  window,  and  it’s  awful  easy  to  climb  down.” 

“She  could  do  that,  too,  Jack,  but  she  doesn’t 
know  I’m  here  to  help  her.  She’d  think  there 
wasn’t  any  use  getting  down.” 

“Say,  I’ll  climb  up  and  tell  her,  if  you  like. 
Shall  I?” 

“Will  you,  really,  Jack?  And  tell  her  Bessie 
is  waiting  here  for  her?  Will  you  show  her  how 


80 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


to  get  down,  and  how  to  get  here?  And  don’t 
yon  think  someone  will  see  her?” 

“No,  an’  if  they  do,  they  can’t  catch  ns.  I’ve 
got  a cave  back  here  that’s  the  peachiest  hiding- 
place  you  ever  saw!  I’ll  show  you.  They’ll 
never  find  you  there.  You  just  wait!” 

He  was  off  like  a flash,  and  Bessie,  terribly 
anxious,  but  hopeful,  too,  saw  him  run  up  the 
tree  like  a squirrel.  Then  the  branches  hid  him 
from  her,  and  she  couldn’t  see  what  happened  at 
the  window.  But  before  she  had  waited  more 
than  two  minutes,  although  it  seemed  like  hours 
to  poor  Bessie,  Jack  was  in  sight  again,  and  be- 
hind him  came  Zara.  She  dropped  easily  to  the 
ground,  and  ran  toward  Bessie,  behind  Jack,  like 
a scared  rabbit. 

“Oh,  Bessie,  I’m  so  glad—so  glad!”  she  cried. 
“I  was  so  frightened — ” 

From  the  inn  there  was  a shout  of  anger. 

“Gee!  He’s  found  out  already, ’ ’ cried  Jack. 
“Come  on!  Don’t  be  seared!  I’ll  show  you  where 
to  hide  so  he’ll  never  find  you.  Run— run,  just 
as  fast  as  you  can!” 

And  they  were  off,  while  Farmer  Weeks  shouted 
behind  them. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


THE  SHELTER  OF  THE  WOODS 

For  the  first  few  minutes  as  they  ran,  the  three 
of  them  were  too  busy  to  talk,  and  they  needed 
their  breath  too  much  to  be  anxious  to  say  any- 
thing. Jack,  his  little  legs  flying,  covered  ground 
at  an  astonishing  pace.  Zara  had  always  been  a 
speedy  runner,  and  now,  clutching  Bessie’s  hand 
tightly,  she  helped  her  over  some  of  the  harder 
places. 

They  were  running  right  into  the  woods,  as  it 
seemed  to  Bessie,  and  more  than  once,  as  she 
heard  sounds  of  pursuit  behind,  she  was  fright- 
ened. It  seemed  to  her  impossible  that  little  Jack, 
mean  he  never  so  well,  could  possibly  enable  them 
to  escape  from  angry  Farmer  Weeks,  who,  for 
ah  old  man,  seemed  to  be  keeping  up  astonishingly 
well  in  the  race.  But  soon  the  noises  behind  them 
grew  fainter,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the 
ground  began  to  rise  sharply.  Jack  dropped  to 
a walk,  and  the  two  girls,  panting  from  the  hard 
run,  were  not  slow  to  follow  his  example. 

“This  is  like  playing  Indians,”  said  Jack, 
happily.  “It’s  lots  of  fun— much  better  than 
playing  by  myself.  Here’s  my  cave.” 

81 


82 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“Don’t  yon  think  we’d  better  go  on,  Bessie! ” 
panted  Zara.  “We’re  ahead  of  them  now,  and 
they  might  find  ns  here.” 

“No,  I think  we’d  better  stop  right  here. 
Would  yon  ever  know  there  was  a save  here  if 
Jack  hadn’t  uncovered  the  ©ntranee  ? And  see, 
it’s  so  wild  that  we’d  have  to  stick  to  the  path, 
and  we  don’t  know  the  way.  I’m  afraid  they’d 
be  sure  to  catch  ns  sooner  or  later  if  we  went  on.  ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Listen ! ’ ’ said  J ack.  ‘ ‘ They  ’re  getting  nearer 
again ! ’ ’ 

And  sure  enough,  they  could  hear  the  shouts  of 
those  who  were  following  them,  and  the  noise 
was  getting  louder.  Bessie  hesitated  no  longer, 
but  pushed  Zara  before  her  into  the  cave.  Jack 
followed  them. 

“See,”  he  said,  “I  can  pull  those  branches 
over,  and  they’ll  never  see  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 
They’ll  think  these  are  just  bushes  growing  here. 
Isn’t  it  a bully  place!  I’ve  played  it  was  a 
smuggler’s  cave,  and  all  sorts  of  things,  but  it 
never  was  as  good  fun  as  this.” 

“Just  think  that  way,”  said  Bessie  to  poor 
Zara,  who  was  trembling  like  a leaf.  “When  we 
get  back  with  the  girls,  we’ll  think  this  is  just 
good  fun— a fine  adventure.  So  cheer  up,  we’re 
safe  now.” 

“But  how  will  we  ever  get  back  to  them,  even 
if  they  don’t  catch  us  now!”  asked  Zara.  “We’ll 
be  seen  when  we  go  out,  won’t  we!” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


83 


“No,  indeed, ” said  Bessie.  “I’ll  bet  Jack’s 
thought  about  that,  haven’t  you,  Jack?” 

“You  bet!”  he  said,  proudly.  “They’ll  go  by/ 
and  they’ll  keep  on  for  a long  way,  and  then 
they’ll  think  they’ve  gone  so  far  that  a girl 
couldn’t  ever  have  done  it.  And  then  they’ll  de- 
cide they’ve  missed  her,  and  they’ll  turn  around 
and  come  back  again,  and  hunt  around  near  the 
hotel.  And  when  they  do  that— ” 

“Hush!”  said  Bessie.  “Here  they  come! 
Keep  quiet,  now,  both  of  you!  Don’t  even  breathe 
hard— and  don’t  sneeze,  whatever  you  do!” 

And  then,  lying  down  close  to  one  another,  at 
full  length  on  the  floor  of  the  cave,  which  Jack, 
for  his  play,  had  covered  with  soft  branches  of 
evergreen  trees,  they  peeped  out  through  the 
leafy  covering  of  the  cave  while  Parmer  Weeks 
went  by,  snorting  and  puffing  angrily,  like  some- 
wild  animal,  his  eyes  straight  ahead.  He  never- 
looked  at  the  cave,  or  in  their  direction,  but  the 
next  man,  one  employed  about  the  hotel,  seemed 
to  have  his  eyes  fixed  directly  on  the  branches. 
Bessie  thought  he  looked  suspicious.  She  was 
sure  that  he  had  spied  the  device,  and  was  about 
to  call  to  Farmer  Weeks.  But,  when  he  was  still 
a few  feet  off,  he  tripped  over  a root,  and  sprawled 
on  his  face,  and,  if  he  had  ever  really  had  any 
suspicions  at  all,  the  fall  seemed  to  drive  them 
from  his  mind  effectually.  He  picked  himself  up,, 
laughing,  since  the  fall  had  not  hurt  him,  and, 
r 


84 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


after  he  had  shouted  hack  a warning  to  two  men 
who  followed  him,  he  went  on,  dusting  himself  off. 

The  root  had  been  good,  to  the  fugitives,  sure 
enough,  for  the  men  who  followed  kept  their  eyes 
on  the  ground,  looking  out  for  it,  since  they  had 
no  desire  to  share  the  tumble  of  the  man  in  front, 
and  neither  of  them  so  much  as  looked  at  the 
cave. 

“My,  but  they’re  brave  men!”  said  Jack. 
“Three  of  them,  all  to  chase  one  little  girl!” 

Zara,  her  fears  somewhat  relieved,  laughed  as 
she  looked  at  her  rescuer. 

“I ’in  bigger  than  you  are,”  she  said,  smiling. 

“Yes,  but  you’re  a girl,”  said  Jack,  in  a lordly 
■fashion  that  would  have  made  Bessie- laugh  if  she 
hadn’t  been  afraid'  of  hurting  his  feelings.  “And 
I’ve  rescued  you,  haven’t  I?  Did  you  ever  read 
about  the  Knights  of  the  Sound  Table,  and  how 
-they  rescued  ladies  in  distress?  - I’m  your  knight, 
and  you  ought  to  give  me  a knot  of  ribbon.  They 
always  do  in  the  books.” 

Zara  looked  puzzled. 

“Haven’t  yon  ever  read  about  them?”  said 
Jack,  looking  disappointed.  Bnt  then  he  turned 
to  Bessie.  “You  have,  haven’t  yon?” 

“'I  certainly  have,  Jack,  and  Zara  shall,  soon. 
They  were  brave  men,  Zara,  who  lived  centuries, 
-ago.  And  whenever  they  saw  a lady  who  needed 
help  they  gave  it  to  her.  Jack’s  quite  right;  he 
is  like  them.” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


85 


Jack  flushed  with  pleasure.  He  had  liked 
Bessie  from  the  start  and  now  he  adored  her. 

. “You’re  Zara’s  true  knight,  Jack,  and  she’ll 
give  you  that  ribbon  from  her  hair.  But  you 
mustn’t  let  anyone  see  it,  or  tell  about  this  ad- 
venture, unless  your  father  asks  you.  You 
mustn’t  say  anything  that  isn’t  true,  but  only 
answer  questions.  Don’t  offer  to  tell  people,  or 
else  you  may  be  punished,  because  Farmer  Weeks 
would  say  we  were  bad,  and  that  it  was  wrong 
to  help  us.” 

“I  wouldn’t  believe  him,  and  neither  would  my 
pop,  I know  that.  He’s  the  greatest  man  that 
ever  lived— greater  than  George  Washington. 
And  he’ll  say  I was  just  right  if  I tell  him.  I 
just  know  he  will.” 

“But  maybe  he  and  Farmer  Weeks  are  friends, 
Jack.  Then  he’d  think  it  was  all  wrong,  wouldn’t 
he  ? ” 

“My  pop  wouldn’t  have  him  for  a friend, 
Bessie,  don’t  you  believe  he  would!  My  pop 
would  never  lock  a girl  up  in  a room  by  herself 
without  her  dinner,  even  if  she’d  been  bad.” 

“I  wonder  why  they’re  so  long  coming  back,” 
said  Bessie,  finally.  “Won’t  they  miss  you, 
.Jack?” 

“Not  if  I get  back  in  time  for  supper.  They 
don’t  care  what  I do  when  it’s  a holiday,  like  this. 
They  know  I know  my  way  around  here,  and  there 
aren’t  any  wild  animals.  I wish  there  were!” 


86 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“Wouldn’t  you  be  afraid  of  them?” 

“Not  a bit  of  it!  I’d  have  a gun,  and  I’d  shoot 
! them,  just  as  quick  as  quick!” 

“Even  if  they  weren’t  trying  to  hurt  you?” 

“Yes,  why  shouldn’t  I?  Everyone  does,  in  all 
the  books.” 

“But  we  don’t  act  the  way  people  in  books  do,, 
Jack.  We  can’t.  Things  aren’t  just  that  way. 
Books  are  to  read,  to  learn  things,  and  for  fun, 
/ but  we’ve'  got  to  remember  that  real  life’s 
| different.” 

| “Well,  I bet  if  I saw  a lion  coming  through 
that  wood  there  I’d  kill  him.” 

“Suppose  he  ate  you  up  first?”  asked  Zara. 

“He’d  better  not!  My  pop  ’d  catch  and  make 
him  sorry  he  ever  did  anything  like  that  ! Say,, 
it  is  taking  them  a long  time  to  come  back.  May- 
be they’ve  lost  their  way.” 

“Could  they  around  here?” 

“You.  bet  they  could!  Lots  of  people  do,  from 
the  hotel,'!  and  we  have  to  send  out  and  find  them,- 
so’s  they  don’t  have  to  stay  out  all  night.  Say, 
did  you  hear  something  just  then?” 

They  listened  attentively,  and  presently  Zara’s 
keen  ears  detected  a sound. 

“There’s  someone  coming,”  she  said.  “Listen! 
‘ Yrou  can  hear  them  quite  plainly  now.” 

They  were  quiet  for  a minute. 

“They  must  be  quite  close,”  said  Zara,  then, 
“We  heard  them  much  further  off  than  that  when 


IN  THE  WOODS 


87 


they  were  coming  after  us.  I wonder  why  they; 
got  so  near  before  we  heard  them  this  time?” 

“That’s  easily  explained,  Zara,”  said  Bessie. 
“When  they  were  going  the  wind  was  behind 
them.  Now  it’s  in  front  of  them.  And  they  were 
going  up  hill,  too,  so  there  may  have  been  an 
echo,  because  they  were  shouting  toward  the  rocks 
upon  the  hill.  Now  that’s  changed,  too.” 

“Say,  you’re  a regular  scout!”  said  Jack  ap- 
provingly. “7  knew  all  that,  but  I didn’t  suppose 
girls  knew  things  like  that.  Say,  when  I get  old 
enough  I’m  going  to  be  a Boy  Scout.  That’ll  be 
fine,  won’t  it?  I’ll  have  a uniform,  and  a badge, 
and  everything.  ’ ’ 

“Splendid,  Jack!  We’re  going  to  be  Camp 
Fire  Girls,  and  we’ll  have  rings,  and  badges,  too.’* 

‘ ‘ What  are  Camp  Fire  Girls?  Are  they  like 
the  Boy  Scouts?” 

“Something  like  them,  Jack.  Sometime,  when 
I know  more  about  them,  I’ll  come  back  and  tell 
you  all  about  it.  I know  it’s  nice— but  I don’t 
really  know  much  more  than  that  yet.  ’ ’ 

Then  they  had  to  be  still  again,  for  the  voices 
of  the  returning  hunters  were  very  plain.  They 
could  hear  Farmer  Weeks,  loud  and  angry,  in  the 
lead. 

“Ain’t  it  the  beatin’est  thing  you  ever  heard 
of?”  he  was  asking  one  of  his  companions. 
“How  do  you  guess  that  little  varmint  ever  got 
away?” 


THE  GAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


€8 

“Better  give  it  up  as  a bad  job,  old  hayseed, ’ ’ 
said  another  voice.  “She’s  too  slick  for  you— 
and  I can’t  say  I’m  sorry,  either.  Way  you’ve 
been  goin’  on  here  makes  me  think  anyone ’d  be 
glad  to  dig  out  and  run  away  from  a chance  to 
work  for  you.” 

“Any  lazy  good-for-nothing  like  you  would— 
yes,”  said  Farmer  Weeks,  enraged  by  the  taunt. 
“I  make  anyone  that  gits  my  pay  or  my  vittles 
work— an’  why  shouldn’t  they?  If  you’d  gone  on, 
like  I wanted  you  to,  we’d  have  caught  her.” 

“We  ain’t  workin’  for  you,  an’  we  never  will, 
neither,”  said  the  other  man,  laughing.  “Better 
he  careful  how  you  start  callin’  us  names,  I can 
tell  you.  If  you  ain’t  you  may  go  home  with  a 
few  of  them  whiskers  of  your’n  pulled  out.” 

“You  shut  your  trap!” 

“Sure!  I’d  rather  hear  you  talk,  anyhow. 
You’re  so  elegant  and  refined  like.  Makes  me 
sorry  I never  went  to  collidge,  so’s  I could  talk 
that  way,  too.” 

They  couldn’t  make  out  what  Farmer  Weeks 
replied  to  that.  He  was  so  angry  that  he  just 
mumbled  his  words,  and  didn’t  get  them  out 
properly.  Zara  was  smiling,  her  eyes  shining. 
But  then  the  old  farmer’s  voice  rose  loud  and 
clear  again,  just  as  he  passed  the  cave. 

“I’ll  git  her  yet,”  he  said,  vindictively.  “I 
know  what  she’s  done,  all  right.  She’s  gone 
traipsin’  off  with  that  passel  of  gals  that  Paw 


IN  THE  WOODS 


89 


Hoover  sold  his  garden  track  to  yesterday.  I 
heard  ’em  laughin’  and  chatterin’  hack  there  on 
the  road  where  I found  her.  She’ll  go  runnin’ 
back  to  ’em— and  I’ll  show  ’em,  I will!” 

“Aw,  you’re  all  talk  and  no  do,”  said  the  other 
man,  contemptuously.  “You  talk  big,  but  you 
don ’t  do  a thing.  ’ ’ 

“I’ll  have  the  law  on  ’em.  That  gal’s  as  good 
as  mine  for  the  time  till  she’s  twenty-one,  an’  I’ll 
show  ’em  whether  they  can  run  off  that  way  with 
a man’s  property.  Guess  even  a farmer’s  got 
some  rights— an’  I can  afford  to  pay  for  lawin’ 
when  I need  it  done.  ” 

“I  s’pose  you  can  afford  to  pay  us  for  runnin’ 
off  on  this  wild  goose  chase  for  you,  then?  Hey?” 

“Not  a cent— not  a cent!”  they  heard  Farmer 
Weeks  say,  angrily.  “I  ain’t  a-goin’  to  give  none 
of  my  good  money  that  I worked  for  to  any  low- 
down  shirkers  like  you— hey,  what  are  you  doin’ 
there,  tryin’  to  trip  me  up?” 

A chorus  of  laughter  greeted  his  indignant 
question,  but  he  seemed  to  take  the  hint,  for  the 
fugitives  in  the  cave  heard  no  more  talk  from 
him,  although  for  some  time  after  that  the  sounds 
in  the  direction  the  pursuers  had  taken  on  their 
return  to  the  inn  were  plain  enough. 

When  the  last  sounds  had  died  away,  and  they 
were  quite  sure  that  they  were  safe,  for  the  time, 
at  least,  Bessie  got  up. 

“Suppose  we  follow  this  trail  right  up  the  way 


90 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 

they  went?”  Bessie  asked  Jack.  “Where  will  it 
bring  us  ? ” 

“To  the  top  of  the  mountain,”  said  Jack. 
“But  if  you  want  to  go  off  that  way  I’ll  walk  a 
way  with  you,  and  show  you  where  you  can  strike 
off  and  come  to  another  trail  that  will  bring  you 
out  on  the  main  road  to  Zebulon.” 

“That’ll  be  fine,  Jack.  If  you’ll  do  that,  you’ll 
help  us  ever  so  much,  and  we’ll  be  able  to  get 
■along  splendidly.  ’ ’ 

“We’d  better  start,”  said  Zara,  nervously.  “I 
want  to  get  away  as  soon  as  ever  I can.  Don’t 
you,  Bessie?” 

“Indeed  I do,  Zara.  I’m  just  as  afraid  of 
having  Farmer  Weeks  catch  us  as  you  are.  If 
lie  found  me  he’d  take  me  back  to  Maw  Hoover, 
I know.  And  she’d  be  awfully  angry  with  me.” 

“I’m  all  ready  to  start  whenever  you  are,”  an- 
nounced Jack.  “Come  on.  It  gets  dark  early  in 
the  woods,  you  know.  They’re  mighty  thick 
when  you  get  further  up  the  mountain.  But  if 
you  walk  along  fast  you’ll  get  out  of  them  long 
before  it’s  really  dark.” 

So  they  started  off.  Little  Jack  seemed  to  be 
a thorough  woodsman  and  to  know  almost  every 
stick  and  stone  in  the  path.  And  presently  they 
came  to  a blazed  tree— a tree  from  which  a strip 
of  bark  had  been  cut  with  a blow  from  an. axe. 

“That’s  my  mark.  I made  it  myself,”  sa’d 
Jack,  proudly.  “Here’s  where  we  leave  this  trail. 


IN  THE  WOODS 


91 


Be  careful  now.  Look  where  I put  my  feet,  and 
•come  this  same  way.” 

Then  he  struck  off  the  trail,  and  into  the  deep 
woods  themselves  where  the  moss  and  the  carpet 
of  dead  leaves  deadened  their  footsteps.  Although 
the  sun  was  still  high,  the  trees  were  so  thick  that 
the  light  that  came  down  to  them  was  that  of  twi- 
light, and  Zara  shuddered. 

“I’d  hate  to  he  lost  in  these  woods,”  she  said. 

Then,  abruptly,  they  were  on  another  trail. 
Jack  had  been  a true  guide. 

“You  can’t  lose  your  way  now,”  he  said. 
“Keep  to  the  trail  and  go  straight  ahead.” 

“Good-bye,  Jack,”  said  Bessie.  “You’re  just 
as  true  and  brave  as  any  of  the  knights  you  ever 
read  about,  and  if  you  keep  on  like  this  you’ll  be 
a great  man  when  you  grow  up— as  great  as  your 
father.  Good-bye!” 

‘ ‘ Good-bye  and  thank  you  ever  so  much,  ’ ’ called 
Zara. 

“Come  again!”  said  Jack,  and  stood  there  until 
they  were  out  of  sight. 

It  was  not  long  before  they  came  out  near  the 
main  road,  and  now  Zara  gave  a joyful  cry. 

“Oh,  I’m  so  glad  to  be  here!”  she  exclaimed. 
“ Those  woods  frightened  me,  Bessie.  They  were 
so  dark  and  gloomy.  And  it’s  so  good  to  see  the 
sun  again,  and  the  fields  and  the  blue  sky!” 

Bessie  looked  about  her  curiously  as  she  strove 
to  get  her  bearings.  Then  her  face  cleared. 


09 


THE  CAMP  PIPE 


r * f -<>  t Qi 


“I  know  where  we  are  now,”  she  said.  “We ’re 
■still,  quite  a little  distance  from  where  we  stopped 
for  lunch  and  Farmer  Weeks  got  hold  of  you, 
Zara.  We  ’ll  have  to  go  up  the  road.  You  see,  it 
brought  us  quite  a little  out  of  our  direct  way- 
going back  in  the  woods  as  we  did.  But  it  was 
worth  it — to  get  away  from  Farmer  Weeks.  ” 

“I  should  think  it  was!”  said  Zara.  “I’d  walk 
on  my  hands  for  a mile  to  be  free  from  him.  He 
was  awful.  He  drove  up  just  as  I got  down  to  the 
road,  and  as  soon  as  I saw  him  I started  to  run. 
But  I was  so  frightened  that  my  knees  shook,  and 
he  jumped  out  and  caught  me.  ’ ’ 

“What,  did  he  say  to  you?” 

“Oh,  everything’!  He  said  he  could  have  me 
put  in  prison  for  running  away,  and  he  asked  me 
where  you  were,  but  I wouldn’t  say  a thing.  I 
wouldn’t  even  answer  him  when  he  asked  me  if 
I’d  seen  you.  And  he  said  that  when  I came  to 
work  for  him,  he’d  see  that  I got  over  my  laziness 
and  my  notions.  ’ ’ 

“Well,  you’re  free  of  him  now,  Zara.  Oh!” 

“What  is  it,  Bessie?” 

“Zara,  don’t  you  remember  what  he  said? 
That  he’d  find  us  through  the  Camp  Fire  Girls? 
He  knows  . about  them ! If  we  go  right  back  to 
them  now,  we  may  be  walking  right  into  liis 
arms.  Oh,  how  I wish  I could  get  hold  of  Miss 
Eleanor- of  Wanalm!” 

They  stared  at  one  another  in  consternation. 


CHAPTER  IX 


A CLOSE  SHAVE 

“I  never  thought  of  that,  Bessie!  Do  you  sup- 
pose he’d  really  go  after  the  girls  and  look  for  usv 
there  ? ’ ’ 

“You  could  hear  how  mad  lie  was,  Zara.  I 
think  he’d  do  anything  he  could  to  get  even  with  * 
you  for  running  away  like  that.  It  made  him. 
look  foolish  before  all  those  men  and  it’ll  be  a 
long  time  before  folks  let  him  forget  how  he  was 
fooled  by  a girl.” 

“What  are  we  going  to  do?” 

“I’m  trying  to  think.  If  I could  get  word  to 
Miss  Eleanor,  she’d  know  what  to  tell  us,  I’m  sure. 
I’m  afraid  she’ll  be  wondering  what’s  become  of 
me— and  maybe  she’ll  think  I just  ran  away,  and 
think  I was  wrong  to  do  it.” 

“But  she’ll  understand  when  you  tell  her  about" 
it,  Bessie,  and  if  you  hadn’t  come  I never  would 
have  got  away  by  myself.  I’d  have  been  afraid, 
even  to  fry,  if  there ’d  been  a chance.  ’ ’ 

“The  worst  part  of  ft  is  that  if  Farmer  Weeks 
really  has  any  right  to  keep  you,  or  if  you  were 
wrong  to  run  away,  it  might  get  .Miss  Eleanor 

93 


$4 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


into  trouble  if  they  could  find  out  that  she’s  been 
helping  you  to  get  away.” 

They  were  walking  along  the  road,  but  now 
Bessie,  who  had  forgotten  the  need  of  caution 
in  her  consternation  at  the  thought  of  the  new 
plight  they  faced,  pulled  Zara  after  her  into  the 
bushes  beside  the  highway. 

“I  heard  wheels  behind  us,”  she  explained. 
"“'We  mustn’t  take  any  chances.” 

They  stopped  to  let  the  wagon  they  had  heard 
pass  by,  but  as  it  came  along  Bessie  cried  out 
suddenly. 

“That’s  Paw  Hoover!”  she  said.  “And  I’m 
.going  to  speak  to  him,  and  ask  him  what  he  thinks 
we  ought  to  do.  I’m  sure  he’ll  give  us  good 
advice,  and  that  he’s  friendly  to  us.” 

She  hailed  him,  and  the  old  farmer,  mightily 
surprised  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  pulled  up 
his  horses. 

“Whoa!”  he  shouted.  “Well,  Bessie!  Turning 
up  again  like  a bad  penny.  Wdiat’s  the  matter 
now?” 

Breathlessly  Bessie  told  him  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  of  Zara’s  escape  from  Farmer  Weeks, 
while  Zara  interrupted  constantly  to  supply  some 
•detail  her  chum  had  forgotten. 

“Well,  by  gravy,  I dunno  what  to  say!”  said 
Paw  Hoover,  scratching  his  head  and  looking  at 
them  with  puzzled  eyes.  “I  don’t  like  Silas 
Weeks— never  did!  I’d  hate  to  have  a girl  of 


IN  THE  WOODS 


95 


mine  bound  over  to  him— that  I would!  But  these 
lawyers  beat  me ! I ain’t  never  had  no  truck  with 
them.  ’ ’ 

“Will  the  law  make  Zara  go  to  him,  Paw?” 
asked  Bessie.  v 

“I  dunno,  Bessie— I declare  I dunno!”  he 
answered,  slowly.  “He  seems  almighty  anxious 
to  get  hold  of  her— an’  I declare  I dunno  why. 
Seems  like  there  must  be  lots  of  other  girls  over 
there  at  the  poor-farm  he  could  take  if  he’s  so 
powerful  anxious,  all  of  a sudden,  to  have  a girl 
to  work  for  him.  I did  hear  say,  though,  that 
he’d  got  some  sort  of  a paper  signed  by  the  judge 
— an’  if  that’s  so,  there  ain’t  no  tellin’  what  he 
can  do.  Made  him  her  guardeen,  I guess,  what- 
ever that  is.” 

“But  Zara  doesn’t  need  a guardian!  She’s 
got  her  father,”  said  Bessie. 

Paw  shook  his  head.  He  looked  as  if  he  didn’t 
think  much  of  the  sort  of  guardianship  Zara’s 
father  would  give  her.  He  was  a good,  just  man, 
but  he  shared  the  Hedgeville  prejudice  against 
the  foreigner. 

“I  reckon  you’re  right  about  not  wantin’  to 
get  those  young  ladies  I saw  you  with  mixed  up 
with  Silas,  Bessie,”  he  went  on,  reflectively.  “Too 
bad  you  can’t  get  hold  of  that  Miss  Mercer.  She’s 
as  bright  as  a button,  she  is.  Now,  if  she  were 
here,  she’d  find  a way  out  of  this  hole  before  you 
could  say  Jack  Bobinson!” 


96 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“I  believe  she  could,  too,”  said  Bessie.  “If 
you’d  seen  the  way  she  started  out  after  Farmer 
Weeks  wThen  I told  her  I thought  he  must  have 
gone  to  Zebulon ! ’ ’ 

“Zebulon?  Was  she  a goin’  there?  Then  may- 
be she  ain’t  come  back  yet,  an’  we  could  meet 
her  on  the  way.  Eh?” 

“Oh,  I’m  afraid  she  must  have  gone  back  to 
the  girls  long  ago,”  said  Bessie. 

“Well,  you  jump  in  behind  there,  and  get  under 
cover.  Ain’t  no  one  goin’  to  look  in— you’ll  be 
snug  there,  if  it  is  a mite  hot.  An’  I’ll  just  drive 
along  an’  see  if  I can’t  meet  your  Miss  Mercer. 
Then  we’ll  know  what  to  do.  An’  I’ll  spell  it 
over,  an’  maybe  I’ll  hit  on  some  way  to  help  you 
out  myself,  even  if  we  don’t  meet  her.  Like  as 
not  I’ll  come  across  Silas  Weeks,  too,  but  he’ll 
never  suspicion  that  you’re  in  here  with  me.  Ha! 
Ha!  Not  in  a million  years,  he  won’t.  No,  sir!” 

Bessie  laughed,  and  she  and  Zara  jumped  in 
happily. 

“We’ve  got  ever  so  many  friends,  after  all, 
Zara,”  she  said,  in  a whisper,  as  they  drove 
along.  “Look  at  Paw  Hoover.  He’s  been  as 
nice  as  he  can  be,  and  he  thinks  I set  his  place 
on  fire,  too!  I’m  sure  things  will  be  all  right. 
We’ll  find  the  girls  again,  and  everything  will  be 
just  as  we  had  planned.” 

“Bessie,  why  do  you  suppose  Farmer  Weeks 
is  so  set  on  having  me  to  work  for  him?  Doesn’t 


i 


IN  THE  WOODS 


97 


that  seem  fanny  to  yon ? I’m  not  as  clever  as  lots 
of  girls  he  could  get,  I’m  sure.” 

“I  can’t  guess,  Zara.  But  we’ll  find  out  some- 
time, never  fear.  Did  he  and  your  father  ever 
have  anything  to  do  with  one  another  ! ’ ’ 

“They  did  just  at  first  when  we  came  out  here. 
He  came  over  to  our  place  in  the  evenings  a good 
deal,  and  he  and  my  father  used  to  talk  together. 
But  I never  knew  what  they  talked  about.” 

“Did  they  seem  friendly!” 

“They  were  at  first.” 

* “Then  I should  think  he  would  have  tried  to 
help  your  father  when  there  was  trouble.” 

“No,  no!  They  had  an  awful  quarrel  one 
night,  and  my  father  said  he  was  as  bad  as  some 
of  the  people  who  hated  him  in  Europe,  and  that 
he’d  have  to  look  out  for  him.  He  said  he  was 
so  rich  that  people  would  do  what  he  wanted,  and 
after  that  he  was  afraid,  and  whenever  he  did  any 
work,  he  used  to  get  me  to  stay  around  outside  the 
house  and  tell  him  if  anyone  came.  And  he 
always  used  to  say  that  it  was  Farmer  Weeks  he 
wanted  me  to  look  out  for  most.” 

“Well,  there’s  not  much  use  in -our  thinking 
about  it,  Zara.  The  more  we  puzzle  our  brains 
over  it,  the  less  we’ll  know  about  it,  I’m  afraid.” 

“That’s  so,  too,  Bessie.  I’m  awfully  sleepy. 
I can  hardly  keep  my  eyes  open.” 

“Don’t  try.  You’ve  had  a hard  time  to-day. 
*stet  to  sleep  if  you  can.  I’ll  wake  you  up  if 


98. 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


there’s  any  need  for  it.  I’m  tired,  but  I’m  not 
sleepy  at  all,  and  this  ride  will  rest  me  splen- 
didly. ’ ’ 

Bessie  peeped  out  now  and  then,  and  she  kept 
her  eyes  open  on  the  lookout  for  the  spring  where 
Farmer  Weeks  had  surprised  Zara..  But  when 
they  passed  it,  although  she  looked  out  and  list- 
ened hard,  she  couldn’t  tell  whether  the  Camp 
Fire  Girls  were  on  the  bluff  above  the  roadside  or 
not,  and  she  was  afraid  to  ask  Paw  Hoover  to 
stop  and  let  her  find  out  for  certain,  since  there 
was  the  chance  that  Farmer  Weeks  might  have 
returned  with  the  idea  that  Zara,  having  escaped 
his  clutches,  would  naturally  have  come  bp,ck  to 
the  place  of  her  capture. 

Bessie  understood  very  well  that,  while  Paw 
Hoover  was  proving  himself  a true  friend,  and 
was  evidently  willing  to  do  all  he  could  for  them, 
it  would  never  do  for  Silas  Weeks  or  anyone  else 
from  Hedgeville  to  know  that  he  was  befriending 
the  two  fugitives.  She  could  guess  what  Maw 
Hoover  would  say  to  him  if  she  learned  that  he 
had  helped  her,  and  if  there  was  the  chance  that 
Farmer  Weeks  might  get  Miss  Mercer  into 
trouble  through  her  friendship  for  them,  Paw 
Hoover  was  running  the  same  risk. 

Until  after  they  reached  the  crossroads  where 
Bessie  had  so  fortunately  been  led  to  take  the 
right  turn  in  her  pursuit  of  Zara  earlier  in  the 
day,  they  did  not  pass  or  meet  a single  vehicle. 


IN  THE  WOODS 


99 


of  any  sort,  nor  even  anyone  on  foot.  Zara  slept, 
soundly,  and  Bessie,  soothed  by  the  motion  of  the 
wagon,  was  beginning  to  nod  sleepily. 

She  had  almost  dozed  off  when  she  was  aroused 
sharply  by  a sudden  shout  to  his  horses  from  Paw 
Hoover,  and  she  heard  him  call  out  laughingly: 

“Hello,  there,  Miss  Mercer!  Didn’t  expect  to 
see  me  again  so  soon,  did  you?  I’ll  bet  I’ve  got 
the  surprise  of  your  life  for  you.” 

Then  she  heard  Wanaka’s  clear  voice. 

“Oh,  Mr.  Hoover!  You  don’t  mean——” 

“Yes,  I do — and  the  pair  of  them,  too,”  he  said.. 

“Well,  really?  Oh,  I’m  so  relieved!  I’ve  been, 
half  wild  about  poor  little  Zara.  I wasn’t  so 
afraid  for  Bessie — she’s  better  able  to  care1  for 
herself.  ’ ’ 

How  proud  Bessie  was  when  she  heard  that ! 

“Jump  up,  Miss  Mercer.  Then  you  can  talk 
to  Bessie.  She’s  keeping  under  cover,  like  the 
wise  young  one  she  is.  I’m  afraid  there’s  still 
trouble  stirring,  Miss  Mercer.” 

“I  know  there  is,  Mr.  Ploover,”  Eleanor  an- 
swered, gravely.  And  then  she  looked  through  to 
see  Bessie,  and  in  a moment  they  were  in  one  an- 
other ’s  arms. 

“I’ve  been  to  Zebulon,  and  I’ve  found  out  lots;  ■ 
of  things,”  said  Eleanor.  “Bessie,  unless  we’re 
very  careful  that  horrid  old  Mr.  Weeks  will  get 
hold  of  Zara  again,  and  the  law  will  help  him  to 
keep  her,  I don’t  know  how  you  got  her  away 


.100 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


from  him;  you  can  tell  me  that  later.  .But  just 
mow  I’ve  thought  of  a way  to  heat  him.” 

“I  knew  you  would,”  said  Bessie. 

“The  law  is  wrong,  sometimes,  I’m  sure,”  said 
Eleanor.  “And  I’m  just  as  sure  that  this  is  one 
of  the  times.  I’ve  seen  Mr.  "Weeks,  and  no  one 
would  trust  Zara  to  him.  He’d  treat  her  harshly, 
I know,  and  I don’t  believe  it  would  be  easy  to 
get  him  punished  for  it— around  here,  at  least.” 

“You’re  right  there,  ma’am,”  said  Paw 
Hoover.  “Silas  Weeks  has  got  too  many  mort- 
gages around  here  not  to  be  able  to  have  his  own 
way  when  he’s  really  sot  on  getting  it.” 

“Now,  listen,”  said  Eleanor  quickly  to  Bessie. 
“I’m  going  to  change  all  our  plans  because  I’m 
:sure  we  can  do  more  good  than  if  we  stuck  to  what 
we  meant  to  do.  Mr.  Hoover,  can  you  spare  the 
time  to  drive  Bessie  and  Zara  to  the  road  that 
crosses  this  about  half  a mile  before  you  come  to 
Zebulon,  and  then  a little  way  down  that  road, 
ioo!” 

“I’ll  make  the  time,”  said  Paw,  heartily. 

“Then  it’s  going  to  be  easy.  I want  them  to 
get  to  the  railroad.  There  are  too  many  people 
around  the  station  in  Zebulon,  and  there ’d  almost 
surely  be  someone  there  who  knew  them.  I’m  not 
sure  of  just  where  Mr.  Weeks  is  right  now.  He 
might  even  he  there  himself.  So  that’s  too 
risky—” 

“I  see  what  you’re  driving  at,”  said  Paw,  sud- 


IN  THE  WOODS 


101 


denly.  His  face  broke  into  a smile.  “ There’s  a 
station  further  down  the  line — a little  no-account 
station,  ain’t  there?  I’ve  seen  it.” 

“Yes,  Perryville.  But  the  down  train  stops 
there,  and  it  isn’t  just  a flag  stop,  either.  Now, 
listen,  Bessie.  Mr.  Hoover  will  take  you  there, 
or  nearly  there,  so  that  you  can  easily  walk  the 
rest  of  the  way.  And  when  you  get  there  don ’t 
get  by  the  track  until  you  hear  the  train  coming. 
Stay  where  no  one  is  likely  to  see  you,  and  then, 
when  the  train  whistles,  run  over  and  be  ready 
to  get  on  board.  And  get  off  at  Pine  Bridge — 
Pine  Bridge,  do  you  hear!  Will  you  remember 
that?  When  you  get  there,  just  wait.  I’ll  be 
there  almost  as  soon  as  you  are.” 

Paw  Hoover  burst  into  a roar  of  laughter  as 
lie  listened. 

“Bessie  said  you’d  have  a way  to  beat  Silas 
Weeks,  and,,  great  Godfrey,  you  sure  have!”  he 
said.  “I  never  thought  of  that — but  you’re  right. 
Get  her  out  of  the  state,  and  there  ain’t  no  way 
under  heaven  that  Silas  can  get  hold  of  the  girl 
unless  she  comes  back  of  her  own  accord.  Court 
writs  don’t  run  beyond  state  lines,  not  unless 
they’re  in  the  Federal  court.  Godfrey,  but  you’re 
smart  all  right,  young  lady ! ’ ’ 

“Thank  you,”  said  Eleanor,  smiling  at  him  in 
return  for  the  compliment.  ‘‘You’re  sure  you 
understand,  Bessie?  Plere’s  the  money  for  your 
fare.  You  won’t  have  time  to  bny  tickets  so  just 
give  the  money  to  the  conductor.  ’ ’ 


102 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIRLS 


Then  she  dropped  from  the  wagon  to  the  road 
and  Paw  Hoover  whipped  np  his  horses. 

“You  sleep,  if  you  can,  Bessie,”  he  said.  “Ill 
wake  you  up  when  it’s  time  to  get  down.” 

And  Bessie,  her  mind  relieved,  was  glad  to 
obey.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  only  just 
gone  to  sleep  when  Paw  Hoover  shook  her  gently 
to  arouse  her.  t 

“Here  we  are,”  he  said.  “Station’s  just  over 
there — see,  beyond  the  bend.  Remember  whut 
Miss  Mercer  told  you,  now,  and  good  luck,  Bessie  l 
I reckon  we’ll  see  you  again  sometime.” 

There  were  tears  in  Bessie’s  eyes  as  she  said 
good-bye.  She  watched  him  drive  off,  and  then 
she  and  Zara  sat  down  to  wait  for  the  coming  of 
the  train.  They  sat  on  the  grass,  behind  a cabin 
that  had  been  abandoned,  where  they  could  see 
the  track  while  they  themselves  were  hidden  from 
anyone  approaching  by  the  road  they  had  come. 
And  before  long  the  rails  began  to  hum.  Then,, 
in  the  distance,  there  was  the  shriek  of  a whistle. 

“Come  on,  Zara,”  cried  Bessie,  and  they  ran 
toward  the  station,  just  as  the  train  came  into 
sight,  its  brakes  grinding  as  it  slowed  down. 

And  then,  as  they  climbed  aboard,  there  was. 
the  sudden  sound  of  galloping  hoofs,  and  of 
hoarse  shouting.  Farmer  Weeks,  in  his  buggy, 
raced  toward  the  train,  his  hands  lifted  as  he 
called  wildly  to  the  conductor  to  stop.  . 


CHAPTER  X 


OUT  OF  THE  WOODS 

The  train  only  stopped  for  a moment  at  the 
little  station.  Seldom,  indeed,  did  it  take  on  any 
passengers.  And  on  that  trip  it  was  already  late. 
Even  as  the  two  girls  climbed  np  the  steps  the 
brakeman  gave  his  signal,  the  conductor  flung  out 
his  hand,  and  the  wheels  began  to  move.  And 
Farmer  Weeks,  jumping  out  of  his  buggy,  raced 
after  it,  yelling,  but  in  vain. 

Swiftly  the  heavy  cars  gathered  speed.  And 
Bessie  and  Zara,  frightened  by  their  narrow 
escape,  were  still  too  delighted  by  the  way  in 
which  Farmer  Weeks  had  been  baffled  to  worry. 
They  felt  that  they  were  safe  now. 

“I  suppose  that  old  hick  thought  we’d  stop  the 
train  for  him,”  they  heard  the  conductor  say  to 
the  brakeman.  “Well,  he  had  another  guess 
coming!  Look  at  him,  will  you?” 

“He’s  mad  all  through!”  said  the  brakeman, 
laughing.  “Well,  he  had  a right  to  be  there  when 
the  train  got  in.  If  we  waited  for  every  farmer 
that  gets  to  the  station  late,  we’d  be  laid  off  in  a 
hurry,  I’ll  bet.” 

Bessie  and  Zara  were  in  the  last  car  of  the 
103 


104 


' ■■  :!S:  ^ 

THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 

train,  and  they  conld  look  hack  as  it  sped  away. 

“See,  Zara,  he’s  standing  there,  waving  his  ' 
•arms  and  shaking  his  fist  at  ns,  ’ ’ she  said. 

‘“He  can’t  hurt  ns  that  way,  Bessie.  Well,  all 
I hope  is  that  we’ve  seen  the  last  of  him.  Is  it 
true  that  he  can ’t  touch  me  except  in  this  state  ? ’ ’ 

“That’s  what  Wanaka  said,  Zara.  And  she 
-must  know.” 

Then  the  conductor  came  around. 

“We  didn’t  get  our  tickets,  so  here’s  the 
money,”  said  Bessie.  “We  want  to  get  to  Pine 
Bridge.  ’ ’ 

“You  didn’t  have  much  more  time  than  you 
needed  to  catch  this  train,”  said  the  conductor, 
as  he  took  the  money.  “Pine  Bridge,  eh?  That’s 
our  first  stop.  You  can’t  make  any  mistake. ’ ’ 

“How  soon  do  we  cross  the  state  line,  Mr.  Con- 
ductor?” asked  Zara,  anxiously. 

The  conductor  looked  out  of  the  window. 

“Right  now,”  he  said.  “See  that  white  house 
there?  Well,  that’s  almost  on  the  line.  The  house 
is  in  one  state,  and  the  stable ’s  in  the  other.  Why 
are  you  so  interested  in  that?”  He  looked  at 
them  in  sudden  suspicion.  “Here,  was  that  your 
father  who  was  so  wild  because  he  didn’t  catch 
the  train?  Were  you  running  away  from  him?” 

Bessie’s  heart  sank.  She  wondered  if  the  con-' 
duetor,  should  he  really  be  suspicious,  could  make 
them  go  back,  or  keep  them  from  getting  off  the 
train  at  Pine  Bridge. 


IN  THE  WOODS 


105 


“No,  he  wasn’t  any  relative  of  ours  at  all,” 
she  said. 

“Seems  to  me  he  was  shouting  about  you  two, 
though,”  said  the  conductor.  “Hey,  Jim'” 

He  called  the  brakeman. 

“Say,  Jim,  didn’t  it  look  to  you  like  that  hay- 
seed was  trying  to  stop  these  two  fromkgettin’ 
aboard  instead  of  tryin’  to  catch  the  train  him- 
self?” 

“Never  thought  of  that,”  said  Jim,  scratching 
his  head.  “Guess  maybe  he  was,  though.  Maybe 
we’d  better  send  ’em  back  from  Pine  Bridge.” 

“That’s  what  I’m  thinking,”  said  the  con- 
ductor. 

“We’ve  paid  our  fare.  You  haven’t  any  right 
to  do  that,”  said  Bessie,  stoutly,  although  she  was 
frightened.  “And  I tell  you  that  man  isn’t  our 
father.  He  hasn’t  got  anything  to  do  with  us—” 

“He  seemed  to  think  so,  and  I believe  that  was 
why  you  came  running  that  way  to  catch  the  train, 
without  any  tickets.  You  say  he’s  not  your 
father.  Who  is  he?  Do  you  know  him  at  ail?” 

Bessie  wished  she  could  say  that  she  did  not; 
wished  she  could,  truthfully,  deny  knowing 
Farmer  Weeks  at  all.  But  not  even  to  avert  what 
looked  like  a serious  danger  would  she  lie. 

“Yes,  we  know  him,”  she  said.  “He’s  a 
farmer  from  Hedgeville.  And ” 

“Hedgeville,  eh?  What’s  his  name?” 

“Weeks— Silas  Weeks.” 


106 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIRLS 


The  effect  of  the  name  was  extraordinary. 
Conductor  and  brakeman  doubled  up  with  laugh- 
ter, and  for  a moment,  while  the  two  girls  stared, 
neither  of  them  could  speak  at  all.  Then  the 
conductor  found  bis  voice. 

“Ob,  ho-ho,”  be  said,  still  laughing.  “I 
•wouldn’t  have  missed  that  for  a week’s  pay!  If 
I could  only  have  seen  bis  face ! Don’t  you  worry 
any  more!  We’ll  not  send  you  back  to  him,  even 
if  you  were  running  from  him.  Don’t  blame  any- 
one for  tryin’  to  get  away  from  that  old  miser!’’ 

“Wish  he’d  tried  to  jump  aboard  after  we 
started,”  said  Jim,  the  brakeman.  “I’d  have 
kicked  him  off,  and  I wouldn’t  have  done  it  gen- 
tly, either!” 

“We  know  Silas  Weeks,”  explained  the  con- 
ductor. “He’s  the  worst  kicker  and  trouble 
maker  that  ever  rode  on  this  division.  Every 
time  he’s  aboard  my  train  he  gives  ns  more  trou- 
ble in  one  trip  than  all  the  other  passengers  give 
us  in  ten.  He’s  always  trying  to  beat  his  way 
without  payin’  fare,  and  scarcely  a time  goes  by 
that  he  don’t  write  to  the  office  about  Jim  or  me.” 

“Lot  of  good  that  does  him,”  said  Jim.  “They 
don’t  pay  any  attention  to  him.” 

“No,  not  now.  They’re  getting  used  to  him, 
and  they  know  what  sort  of  a mischief  maker  he 
is.  But  he’s  a big  shipper,  an’  at  first  they  used, 
to  get  after  me  pretty  hard  when  he  wrote  one 
of  his  kicks.” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


107 


“Before  I came  on  the  run,  you  mean!” 

“Sure!  He’d  been  at  it  a long  time  before  I 
.got  you,  Jim.  You  see,  he  sends  so  much  stuff  by 
freight  they  had  to  humor  him — and  they  still  do. 
But  now  they  just  write  him  a letter  apologizin’ 
and  don’t  bother  me  about  it  all.  Bet  I’ve  lost 
as  much  as  a week’s  pay,  I guess,  goin’  to  head- 
quarters in  workin’  time  to  explain  his  kicks. 
He’s  got  a swell  chance  of  gettin’  help  from  me!” 

Then  the  two  trainmen  passed  on,  but  not  until 
they  had  promised  to  see  the  two  girls  safe  off 
the  car  at  Pine  Bridge. 

“People  usually  get  paid  back  when  they  do 
something  mean,  Zara,”  said  Bessie.  “If  Farmer 
Weeks  hadn’t  treated  those  men  badly,  they  would 
probably  have  sent  us  back.  But  as  soon  as  they 
heard  who  he  was,  you  saw  how  they  acted.” 

“That’s  right,  Bessie.  I bet  he’d  be  madder 
than  ever  if  he  knew  that.  Someone  ought  to  tell 
mm. ' ’ 

“He’d  only  try  to  make  more  trouble  for  them, 
and  perhaps  he  could,  too.  No,  I don’t  want  to 
bother  about  him  any  more,  Zara.  I just  want 
to  forget  all  about  him.  I wonder  how  long  we’ll 
have  to  wait  at  Pine  Bridge.” 

“Miss  Eleanor  didn’t  say  what  she  was  going 
to  do,  did  she!” 

“No;  she  just  said  that  she’d  get  there,  and 
that  she  had  decided  to  change  all  her  plans  on. 
our  account” 


108 


THE  CAMP  PIPE  GIRLS 


“We’re  making  an  awful  lot  of  trouble  for  her, 

Bessie.  ’ ’ 

“I  know  we  are,  and  we’ve  got  to  show  her 
that  we  ’re  grateful  and  do  anything  we  can  to  help 
her,  if  she  ever  needs  our  help.  I thought  when 
we  started  from  Hedgeville  after  the  fire  that 
we  would  be  able  to  get  along  together  somehow, 
Zara,  but  I see  now  how  foolish  that  was.” 

“I  believe  you’d  have  managed  somehow, 
Bessie.  You  can  do  ’most  anything,  I believe.” 

“I’m  afraid  yon ’ll  find  out  that  I can’t  before 
we’re  done,  Zara.  We  didn’t  have  any  money, 
or  any  plans,  or  anything.  It  certainly  was  lucky 
for  us  that  we  went  to  that  lake  where  the  Camp1 
Fire  Girls  were.  If  it  hadn’t  been  for  them  we’d 
be  back  in  Hedgeville  now,  and  much  worse  off 
than  if  we  hadn’t  tried  to  get  away.” 

“There’s  the  whistle,  Bessie.  I guess  that 
means  we’re  getting  near  Pine  Bridge.” 

“Well,  here  you  are!  Going  to  meet  your 
friends  here!”  said  the  conductor. 

“Yes;’ thank  you,”  said  Bessie.  “We’re  ever 
so  much '.obliged,  and  we’ll  be  all  right  now.” 

“You  sit  right  down  there  on  that  bench  in 
front  of  the  station,”  advised  the  conductor. 
“Don’t  move  away,  or  you’ll  get  lost.  Pine 
Bridge  is  quite  a place.  Bigger  than  Hedgeville 
—quite  a bit  bigger.  And  if  anyone  tries  to 
bother  you,  just  you  run  around  to  the  street  in 
front  of  the  station,  and  you’ll  find  a fat  police- 


IN  THE  WOODS 


109' 

man  there.  He’s  a friend  of  mine,  and  he’ll  look 
after  you  if  you  tell  him  Tom  Norris  sent  you. 
Remember  my  name— Tom  Norris.” 

“Thank  you,  and  good-bye,  Mr.  Norris,”  they 
called  to  him  together,  as  they  stepped  off  the 
car.  Then  the  whistle  blew  again,  and  the  train 
was  off. 

Although  there  were  a good  many  people 
around,  no  one  seemed  to  pay  much  attention  to 
the  two  girls.  Everyone  seemed  busy,  and  to 
be  so  occupied  with  his  own  affairs  that  he  had 
no  time  to  look  at  strangers  or  think  about  what 
they  were  doing. 

“We’re  a long  way  from  home  now,  Zara,  you 
see,”  said  Bessie.  “I  guess  no  one  here  will  know 
us,  and  we’ll  just  wait  till  Miss  Eleanor  comes.” 

“Maybe  she’s  here  already,  waiting  for  us.” 

“Oh,  I don’t  think  so.” 

“We’d  better  look  around,  though.  How  is  she 
going  to  get  here,  Bessie?” 

“I  don’t  know.  She  never  told  me  about  that. 
We  were  talking  as  fast  as  we  could  because  we 
were  afraid  Farmer  Weeks  might  come  along  any 
time,  and  that  would  have  meant  a lot  of 
trouble.  ’ ’ 

“Suppose  he  follows  us  here,  Bessie?” 

“He  won’t!  He’ll  know  that  we’re  safe  from 
him  as  soon  as  we’re  out  of  the  state.  I ’in  not 
afraid  of  him  now— not  a bit,  and  you  needn’t  be, 
either.  ’ ’ 


110 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“Well,  if  you’re  not,  I’ll  try  not  to  be.  But  I 
'wish  Miss  Eleanor  would  come  along,  Bessie.  I’ll 
feel  safer  then,  really.” 

“You’ve  been  brave  enough  so  far,  Zara.  You 
mustn’t  get  nervous  now  that  we’re  out  of  the 
■woods.  That  would  be  foolish.  ’ ’ 

“I  suppose  so,  but  I wasn’t  really  brave  before, 
Bessie.  I was  terribly  frightened  when  he  locked 
me  in  that  room.  I didn’t  see  how  anyone  would 
know  what  had  become  of  me,  or  how  they  could 
find  out  where  I was  in  time  to  help  me.” 

“Did  you  think  about  trying  to  run  away  by 
yourself  ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,  indeed,  but  1 was  afraid  I’d  get  lost.  I 
didn’t  know  where  we  were.  I’d  never  been  that 
way  before.” 

“It’s  a good  thing  you  waited,  Zara.  Even  if* 
you  had  got  away  and  got  into  those  woods  where 
Jack  took  us,  it  would  have  been  dangerous.  You 
might  easily  have  got  lost,  and  it’s  the  hardest 
thing  to  find  people  who  are  in  the  woods.” 

“Why?” 

“Because  they  get  to  wandering  around  in  cir- 
cles. If  you  can  see  the  sun,  you  can  know  which 
way  you’re  going,  and  you  can  be  sure  of  getting 
somewhere,  if  you  only  keep  on  long  enough.  But 
in  the  woods,  unless  you  know  a lot  of  things, 
there’s  nothing  to  guide  you,  and  people  just 
seem,  somehow,  bound  to  walk  in  a circle.  They 


IN  THE  WOODS 


111 


keep  on  coming  back  to  the  place  they  started 
from.  ’ ’ 

Pine  Bridge  was  a junction  point,  and  while 
the  girls  waited,  patiently  enough,  it  began  to 
grow  dark.  Several  trains  came  in,  but,  though 
they  looked  anxiously  at  the  passengers  who  de- 
scended from  each  one  of  them,  there  was  no  sign 
of  Miss  Mercer. 

“I  hope  nothing’s  happened  to  her,”  said  Zara 
anxiously. 

“Oh,  we  mustn’t  worry,  Zara.  She’s  all  right, 
and  she’ll  come  along  presently.” 

“But  suppose  she  didn’t,  what  should  we  do?” 

“We’d  be  able  to  find  a place  to  spend  the 
night.  I’ve  got  money,  you  know,  and  the  police- 
man would  tell  us  where  to  go,  if  we  went  to  him, 
as  the  conductor  told  us  to  do.” 

Another  train  came  in  on  the  same  track  as  the 
one  that  had  brought  them.  Again  they  scanned 
its  passengers  anxiously,  but  no  one  who  looked 
at  all  like  Miss  Mercer  got  off,  and  they  both 
sighed  as  they  leaned  back  against  the  hard  bench. 
Neither  of  them  had  paid  any  attention  to  the 
other  passengers,  and  they  were  both  startled  and 
dismayed  when  a tall,  gaunt  figure  loomed  up 
suddenly  before  them,  and  they  heard  the  harsh 
voice  of  Parmer  Weeks,  chuckling  sardonically 
as  he  looked  down  on  them. 

“Caught  ye,  ain’t  I?”  he  said.  “You’ve  given 


112 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


me  quite  a chase — but  I’ve  run  you  down  now. 
Come  on,  you  Zara!” 

He  seized  her  band,  but  Bessie  snatched  it 
from  him. 

“You  let  her  alone!”  she  said,  with  spirit. 
“You’ve  no  right  to  touch  her!” 

“I’ll  show  you  whether  I’ve  any  right  or  not, 
and  I ’m  going  to  take  her  back  with  me ! ’ ’ Farmer 
Weeks  said,  furiously.  ^ Come  on,  you  baggage! 
You’ll  not  make  a fool  of  me  again,  I’ll  promise 
you  that!” 

“Come  on,”  said  Bessie,  suddenly.  She  still 
held  Zara’s  hand,  and  before  the  surprised  farmer 
could  stop  them,  Bessie  had  dragged  Zara  to  her 
feet,  and  they  had  dashed  under  his  outstretched 
arm  and  got  clear  away,  while  the  loafers  about 
the  station  laughed  at  him. 

“Come  back!  You  can’t  get  away!”  he 
shouted,  as  he  broke  into  a clumsy  run  after  them. 
“Come  back,  or  I’ll  make  you  sorry—” 

But  Bessie  knew  what  she  was  about.  With- 
out paying  the  slightest  attention  to  his  angry 
cries,  she  ran  straight  around  to  the  front  of  the 
station,  and  there  she  founci.  the  fat  policeman. 

“Won’t  you  help  us?”  she  cried.  “Mr.  Norris, 
the  conductor,  said  you  would—” 

“What’s  wrong?”  said  the  policeman,  starting. 
He  had  been  dozing.  “Any  friend  of  Tom’s  is  a 
friend  of  mine — here,  here,  none  of  that!” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


113 


The  last  remark  was  addressed  to  Farmer 
Weeks,  who  had  come  up  and  seized  Zara. 

“I’ve  got  an  order  saying  I’ve  a right  to  take 
her,”  exclaimed  Weeks. 

“But  it’s  not  good  in  this  state — ” interrupted 
Bessie. 

“Let’s  see  it,”  said  the  policeman. 

Weeks,  storming  and  protesting,  showed  him 
the  court  order. 

“That’s  no  good  here.  You’ll  have  to  get  her 
into  the  state  where  it  was  issued  before  you  can 
use  that,”  said  the  policeman. 

“You’re  a liar!  I’ll  take  her  now—” 

The  policeman’s  club  was  out,  and  he  threat- 
ened Weeks  with  it. 

“You  touch  her  and  I’ll  run  you  in,”  he  said, 
angrily.  “We  don’t  stand  for  men  laying  their 
hands  on  girls  and  women  in  this  town.  Get 
away  with  you  now ! If  I catch  you  hanging 
around  here  five  minutes  from  now,  I’ll  take  you 
to  the  lock-up,  and  you  can  spend  the  night  in  a 
cell.” 

“But — ” began  Weeks. 

“Not  a word  more— or  I’ll  do  as  I say,”  said 
the  policeman.  He  was  energetic,  if  he  was  fat, 
and  he  had  put  a protective  arm  about  Zara. 
Weeks  looked  at  him  and  then  he  slunk  off. 

And,  as  he  went,  the  girls  heard  a merry 
chorus,  “Wo-he-lo,  Yvo-he-lo,”  just  as  another 
train  puffed  in. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  CALL,  OF  THE  FIEE 

“Wo-he-lo!” 

Plow  they  did  thrill  at  the  sound  of  the  watch- 
word of  the  Camp  Fire!  How  clearly,  now,  they 
understood  the  meaning  of  the  three  syllables, 
that  had  seemed  to  them  so  mysterious,  so  utterly 
without  meaning,  when  they  had  first  heard  them 
on  the  shores  of  the  lake,  as,  surprised,  they 
peeped  out  and  'saw  the  merry  band  of  girls  who 
had  awakened  them  after  their  flight  from  Hedge- 
ville. 

For  a moment,  so  overjoyed  were  they,  they 
couldn’t  move  at.  all.  Rut  then  the  spell  was 
broken,  as  the  call  sounded  again,  loud  and  clear, 
rising  above  the  noises  of  the  engine  that  was 
puffing  and  snorting  on  the  other  side  of  the  sta- 
tion. Farmer  Weeks,  a black  look  in  his  eyes  as 
he  shot  them  a parting  glance  full  of  malice,  was 
forgotten  as  he  slunk  off. 

“Thank  you,  oh,  thank  you!”  cried  Bessie  to 
the  astonished  policeman,  who  looked  as  if  he 
were  about  to  begin  asking  them  questions. 
“Come  on,  Zara!” 

And,  hand  in  hand,  they  raced  around  to  the 
114  ! 


IN  THE  WOODS 


115« 


other  side  of  the  station  again,  but  blithely,  hap- 
pily this  time,  and  not  in  terror  of  their  enemy,  as 
they  had  come.  And  there,  looking  about  her  in 
all  directions,  was  Eleanor  Mereer,  and  behind 
her  all  the  girls  of  the  Manasquan  Camp  Fire. 

“Oh,  I’m  so  glad!  I was  afraid  something  had 
happened  to  you!”  cried  Eleanor.  “But  now  it’s 
all  right!  We’re  all  here,  and  safe.  In  this  state 
no  one  can  hurt  you— either  of  you!” 

Laughing  and  full  of  questions,  the  other  girls 
crowded  around  Zara  and  Bessie,  so  happily  re- 
stored to  them.  i 

“We  feel  as  if  you  were  real  Camp  Fire  Girls 
already!”  said  Eleanor  Mercer,  half  crying  with 
happiness.  “The  girls  were  wild  with  anxiety 
when  they  found  you  had  gone  away,  too,  Bessie, 
even  though  we  hadn’t  told  them 'everything.  But 
they  were  delighted  when  I got  back  and  told  them 
you  were  safe.” 

“We  were,  indeed,”  said  Minnehaha.  “But  it 
was  awful,  Bessie,  not  to  know  what  had  become 
of  you,  or  how  to  help  you!  We’d  have  done  any- 
thing we  could,  but  we  didn’t  know  a single  thing 
to  do.  So  we  had  just  to  wait,  and  that’s  the 
hardest  thing  there  is,  when  someone  you  love  is 
in  trouble.” 

Bessie  almost  broke  down  at  that.  Until  this 
wonderful  meeting  with  the  Camp  Fire  Girls  no 
one  but  Zara  had  loved  her,  and  the  idea  that 
these  girls  really  did  love  her  as  they  said— and 


THE  CAMP  PIPE  GIRLS 


llo 

had  so  nobly  proved— was  almost  too  much  for 
her.  She  tried  to  say  so. 

“Of  course  we  love  one  another,”  said  Elea- 
nor. “That’s  one  of  the  laws  of  the  Fire,  and 
it’s  one  of  the  words  we  use  to  make  up  Wo-he-Io, 
too.  So  you  see  that  it’s  just  as  important  as  it 
can  be,  Bessie.” 

“Yes,  indeed,  I do  see  that.  I’d  be  awfully 
stupid  if  I didn’t,  after  the  splendid  way  you’ve 
helped  us,  Miss  Eleanor.  What  are  we  going  to 
do  now  s ” 

“We’re  going  to  join  the  big  camp  not  far 
from  here.  Three  or  four  Camp  Fires  are  there 
together,  and  Mrs.  Chester,  who  is  Chief  Guardian 
In  the  city,  wants'  us  to  join  them.  I talked  to 
her  about  you  two  over  the  long-distance  tele- 
phone before  we  got  on  the  train,  and  she’s  so 
anxious  to  see  you,  and  help  me  to  decide  what 
is  best  for  you  to  do.  You’ll  love  her,  Bessie; 
you’re  sure  to.  She’s  so  good  and  sweet  to 
everyone.  All  the  girls  just  worship  her,” 

“If  she’s  half  as  nice  as  you,  we’re  sure  to 
love  her,”  said  Zara. 

Eleanor  laughed. 

“I’m  not  half  as  wonderful  as  you  think  I am, 
Zara.  But  I’m  nicer  than  I used  to  be,  I think.” 
“Oh!” 

“Yes,  indeed!  I used  to  be  selfish  and  thought- 
less, earing  only  about  having  a good  time  myself, 


IN  THE  WOODS 


11? 


and  never  thinking  about  other  people  at  all.  But 
Mrs.  Chester  talked  to  me.” 

“I’ll  bet  she  never  had  a chance  to  scold  you.” 

“I’m  afraid  she  did,  Zara;  but  she  didn’t  want 
to.  That’s  not  her  way.  She  never  scolds  people. 
She  just  talks  to  them  in  that  wonderful,  quiet 
way  of  hers,  and  makes  them  see  that  they 
haven’t  been  doing  right.” 

“But  I don’t  believe  you  ever  did  anything  that 
wasn’t  right.” 

“Maybe  I didn’t  mean  to,  and  maybe  it  wasn’t 
what  I did  that  was  wrong.  It  was  more  what  I 
didn’t  do,” 

“I  don’t  see  what  you  mean.” 

“Well,  I was  careless  and  thoughtless,  just  as 
I said.  I used  to  dance,  and  play  games,  and  go 
to  parties  all  the  time.” 

“I  think  that  must  be  fine!  Didn’t  you  have  to 
work  at  home,  though?” 

“No;  and  that  was  just  the  trouble,  you  see. 
My  people  had  plenty  of  money,  and  they  just 
wanted  me  to  have  a good  time.  And  I did— but 
I’ve  had  a better  one  since  I started  doing  things 
for  other  people.” 

“I  bet  you  always  did,  really—” 

“I’m  not  an  angel  now,  Zara,  and  I certainly 
never  used  to  be,  nor  a bit  like  one.  just  because 
I’ve  happened  to  be  able  to  help  you  two  a little, 
you  think  altogether  too  much  of  me.” 

“Oh,  no;  we  couldn’t—” 


118 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIRLS 


“Well,  as  I was  saying,  Mrs.  Chester  saw  how 
things  were  going,  and  she  started  to  talk  to  me. 
I was  horrid  to  her  at  first,  and  wouldn’t  pay 
any  attention  to  her  at  all.” 

“I’m  going  to  ask  her  about  that.  I don’t  be- 
lieve you  ever  were  horrid  to  anyone.” 

“Probably  Mrs.  Chester  won’t  admit  it,  but. 
it’s  true,  just  the  same,  Bessie.  But  she  talked 
to  me,  and  kept  on  talking,  and  she  made  me 
think  about  all  the  poorer  girls  who  had  to  work 
so  hard  and  couldn’t  go  to  parties.  And  I began 
to  feel  sorry,  and  wonder  what  I could  do  to  make 
them  happier.” 

“You  see,  that’s  just  what  we  said!  You 
weren’t  selfish  at  all!” 

“I  tried  to  stop  as  soon  as  I found  out  that  I 
had  been,  Zara;  that’s  all.  And  I think  anyone 
would  do  that.  It’s  because  people  don’t  think 
of  the  unhappiness  and  misery  of  others  that 
there’s  so  much  suffering,  not  because  they  really 
want  other  people  to  be  unhappy.” 

“I  guess  that’s  so.  I suppose  even  Farmer* 
Weeks  wouldn’t  be  mean  if  he  really  thought 
about  it.” 

“I’m  sure  he  wouldn’t— and  we’ll  have  to  try 
to  reform  him,  too,  before  we’re  done  with  him. 
You  see,  if  there  were  more  people  like  Mrs. 
Chester,  things  would  be  ever  so  much  nicer.  She 
heard  about  the  Camp  Fire  Girls,  and  she  saw* 


IN  THE  WOODS 


119 


right  away  that  it  meant  a chance  to  make  things, 
better,  right  in  our  home  town.” 

“Is  that  how  it  all  started?” 

“Yes,  with  us.  And  it  was  the  same  way  all 
over  the  country,  because,  really,  there  are  lots 
and  lots  of  noble,  unselfish  women  like  Mrs.  Ches- 
ter, who  want  everyone  to  be  happy.  ’ ’ 

“Is  she  as  pretty  as  you,  Miss  Eleanor?” 

“Much  prettier,  Zara;  but  you  won’t  think 
about  that  after  you’ve  talked  to  her.  She  got 
hqld  of  me  and  some  of  the  other  girls  like  me, 
who  had  lots  of  time  and  money,  and  she  made 
us  see  that  we’d  be  twice  as  happy  if  we  spent 
some  of  our  time  doing  things  for  other  people, 
instead  of  thinking  about  ourselves  the  whole 
time.  And  she’s  been  perfectly  right.” 

“I  knew  you  enjoyed  doing  things  like  that — ” 

“Yes;  so  you  see  it  isn’t  altogether  unselfish, 
after  all.  But  Mrs.  Chester  says  that  we  ought 
all  try  to  be  happy  ourselves,  because  that’s  the 
best  way  to  make  other  people  happy,  after  all, 
as  long  as  we  never  forget  that  there  are  others, 
and  that  we  ought  to  think  of  serving  them.” 

“That’s  like  in  the  Bible  where  it  says,  ‘It  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive,’  isn’t  it?” 

“That’s  the  very  idea,  Bessie!  I’m  glad  you 
thought  of  that  yourself.  That’s  just  the  lesson 
we’ve  all  got  to  learn.” 

“But  we  haven’t  been  able  to  help  anyone  yet. 
Miss  Eleanor.  Everyone’s  helping  us—” 


120 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“Don’t  yon  worry  about  that,  Bessie.  You’ll 
have  lots  of  chances  to  help  others— ever  so  many! 
Just  you  wait  until  you  get  to  the  city.  There  are 
lots  of  girls  there  who  are  more  wretched  than 
you— girls  who  don’t  get  enough  to  eat,  and  have 
to  work  so  hard  that  they  never  have  any  fun  at 
all,  because  when  they  get  through  with  their 
work  they're  so  tired  they  have  to  go  right  to 
sleep.  ’ ’ 

“Bessie  was  like  that,  Miss  Eleanor.” 

“I’m  afraid  she  was,  Zara.  But  we’re  going 
to  change  all  that.  Mrs.  Chester  has  promised  to 
help,  and  that  means  that  everything  will  be  all 
right.  ’ ’ 

“Do  you  think  I could  ever  do  anything  to  help 
anyone  else,  Miss  Eleanor  ? ’ ’ 

“I’m  sure  you  have  already,  Zara.  You’ve 
been  a good  friend  to  Bessie,  and  I know  you’ve 
cheered  her  up  and  helped  her  to  get  through  days 
when  she  was  feeling  pretty  bad.” 

“Indeed  she  has,  Miss  Eleanor!  Many  and 
many  a time!  Since  I’ve  known  her  I’ve  often 
wondered  how  I ever  got  along  at  all  before  she 
came  to  Hedgeville!”  h 

“You  see,  Zara,  doing  things  for  others  doesn’t 
mean  always  that  you’re  spending  money  or 
actually  doing  something.  Sometimes  the  very 
best  help  you  can  give  is  by  just  being  cheerful 
and  friendly.” 

“I  hadn’t  thought  of  that.  But  I’m  going  to 


m THE  WOODS 


121 


try  always  to  be  like  that.  Miss  Eleanor,  when 
can  we  be  real  Camp  Fire  Girls?” 

“I  talked,  to  Mrs.  Chester  about  that  to-day,  and 
I think  it  will  be  to-night,  Bessie.  ’ ’ 

“Oh,  that  will  be  splendid!” 

“Yes,  won’t  it?  You  see,  it’s  the  night  for  our 
Council  Fire — that’s  when  we  take  in  new  mem- 
bers, and  award  honors  and  report  what  we’ve 
done.  We  hold  one  every  month.  That’s  the  In- 
dian name  for  month.  You  see,  month  just  means 
moon,  really.  This  is  the  Thunder  Moon  of  the 
Indians,  the  great  copper  red  moon.  It’s  our 
month  of  July.” 

“And  will  we  learn  to  sing  the  songs  like  the 
other  girls?” 

“Yes,  indeed.  You’ll  find  them  very  easy. 
They’re  very  beautiful  songs  and  I think'  we’re 
very  lucky  to  have  them.” 

“Who  wrote  them?  Girls  that  belong?” 

“Some  of  them,  but  not  all,  or  nearly  all.  We 
have  found  many  beautiful  songs  about  fire  and 
the  things  we  love  that  were  written  by  other 
poets  who  never  heard  of  the  Camp  Fire  Girls 
at  all.  And  yet  they  seem  to  be  just  the  right 
songs  for  ns.” 

“That’s  funny,  isn’t  it,  Miss  Eleanor?” 

“Not  a bit,  Zara.  Because  the  Camp  Fire  isn’t 
a new  thing,  really.  Not  the  big  idea  that’s  back 
of  it,  that  you’ll  learn  as  you  stay  with  us,  and 
get  to  know  more  about  us.  All  we  hope  to  do> 


122 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


is  to  make  our  girls  fine,  strong  women  when  they 
get  older,  like  all  the  great  brave  women  that  we 
read  about  in  history.  They’ve  all  been  women 
who  loved  the  home,  and  all  it  means — and  the 
fire  is  the  great  symbol  of  the  home.  It  was  fire 
that  made  it  possible  for  people  to  have  real 
homes.  ’ ’ 

“I’ve  read  lots  and  lots  of  things  about  fire,” 
said  Bessie.  “Longfellow,  and  Tennyson,  and 
other  poets.” 

But  then  her  face  darkened  suddenly. 

“It  was  fire  that  got  me  into  trouble,  though,” 
she  said.  “The  fire  that  Jake  Hoover  used  to  set 
the  woodshed  afire.” 

“That  was  because  he  was  misusing  the  fire, 
Bessie.  Fire  is  a great  servant.  It’s  the  most 
Wonderful  thing  man  ever  did — learning  to  make  a 
fire,  and  tend  it,  and  control  it.  Have  you  heard 
what  it  says  in  the  Fire-Maker ’9  Desire?  But, 
of  course,  you  haven’t.  You  haven’t  been  at  a 
■Council  Fire  yet.  Listen: 

“For  I will  tend, 

As  my  fathers  have  tended 
And  my  father’s  fathers 
Since  Time  began 
Tim  Fire  that  is  called 
The  love  of  man  for  man — 

The  love  of  man  for  God.” 

“That’s  a great  promise,  you  see,  Bessie.  It’s 
a great  honor  to  be  a Fire-Maker.” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


123 


“I  see,  Miss  Eleanor.  Yes,  it  must  be.  How 
does  one  get  to  be  a Fire-Maker!  One  begins  by 
being  a Wood-Gatherer,  doesu’t  one!” 

“Yes,  and  all  one  has  to  do  to  be  a Wood- 
Gatherer  is  to  want  to  obey  the  law  of  the  Fire— 
the  seven  points  of  the  law.  I’11  teach  yon  that 
Desire  before  the  Council  Fire  to-night.  To  be  a 
Fire-Maker  yon  have  to  serve  faithfully  as  a 
Wood-Gatherer,  and  you  have  to  do  a lot  of 
things  that  aren’t  very  easy— though  they’re  not 
very  hard,  either.” 

‘ ‘ And  you  talked  about  awarding  honors.  What 
are  they!” 

“Have  you  seen  the  necklaces  the  girls  wear!” 

“Oh,  yes!  They’re  beautiful.  They  look  like 
the  ones  I’ve  seen  in  pictures  of  Indians.  But  I 
never  thought  they  were  so  pretty  before,  because 
I’ve  only  seen  pictures,  and  they  didn’t  show  the 
different  colors  of  the  beads.” 

“That’s  just  it,  Bessie.  Those  beads  are  given 
for  honors,  and  when  a girl  has  enough  of  them 
they  make  the  necklaces.  They’re  awarded  for 
all  sorts  of  things— for  knowing  them,  and  for 
doing  them,  too.  And  you’ll  learn  to  tell  by  the 
colors  of  the  beads  just  what  sort  of  honors  they 
are— why  the  girl  who  wears  them  got  them,  and 
what  she  did  to  earn  them.” 

“I’m  going  to  work  awfully  hard  to  get 
honors,”  said  Zara,  impulsively.  “Then,  when 
I can  wear  the  beads,  everyone  will  know  about 


124 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


it,  and  about  bow  I worked  to  get  them.  Won’t 
they,  Miss  Eleanor?” 

“Yes,  but  you  mustn’t  think  about  it  just  that 
way,  Zara.  You  won’t,  either,  when  you’ve 
earned  them.  You’ll  know  then  that  the  pleasure- 
of  working  for  the  honors  is  much  greater  than 
feeing  able  to  wear  the  beads.” 

“I  know  why— because  it  means  something!” 

“That’s  just  it,  Bessie.  I can  see  that  you’re 
going  to  be  just  the  sort  of  girl  I want  in  my 
Camp  Fire.  Anyone  who  had  the  money — and 
they  don’t  cost  much— could  buy  the  beads  and 
string  them  together.  But  it’s  only  a Camp  Fire 
Girl,  who’s  worked  for  honors  herself,  who  knows 
what  it  really  means,  and  sees  that  the  beads  are 
just  the  symbol  of  something  much  better.  ’ ’ 

“Aren’t  there  Torch-Bearers,  too,  Miss 
Eleanor?” 

“Yes.  That’s  the  highest  rank  of  all.  We 
haven’t  any  Torch-Bearer  in  our  Camp  Fire  yet, 
but  we  will  have  soon,  because  when  you  girls 
join  us  there’ll  be  nineteen  girls,  and  there  ought 
to  b-e  a Torch-Bearer.” 

“She’d  help  you,  wouldn’t  she,  Miss  Eleanor!” 

“Yes,  she’d  act  as  Guardian  if  I were  away, 
and  she’d  be  my  assistant.  This  is  her  desire, 
you  know,  ‘That  light  which  has  been  given  to 
me,  I desire  to  pass  undimmed  to  others.’  ” 

“I’m  going  to  try  to  be  a Torch-Bearer  when- 
ever I can,”  said  Zara. 


IN  THE  WOODS 


125 


“There’s  no  reason  why  you  shouldn’t  be.. 
Zara.  That  ought  to  be  the  ambition  of  every 
Camp  Fire  Girl— to  be  able,  sometime,  to  help 
others  to  get  as  much  good  from  the  Camp  Fire 
as  she  has  herself.” 

While  they  talked  it  had  been  growing  darker. 
And  now  Miss  Mercer  called  to  the  girls. 

“We’re  going  to  be  driven  over  to  the  big" 
camp,  girls,”  she  said.  “I  think  we’ve  had  quite 
enough  tramping  for  one  day.  I don’t  want  you 
to  be  so  tired  that  you  won’t  enjoy  the  Council 
Fire  to-night.” 

There  was  a chorus  of  laughter  at  that,  as  if 
the  idea  that  they  could  ever  be  too  tired  to  enjoy 
a.  Council  Fire  was  a great  joke— as,  indeed,  it 
was. 

But,  just  the  same,  the  idea  of  a ride  wasn’t  a 
bit  unwelcome.  The  troubles  of  Bessie  and  Zara 
had  caused  a sudden  change  in  the  plans  of  the 
Camp  Fire,  as  Miss  Mercer  had  made  them  orig- 
inally, and  they  had  had  a long  and  strenuous- 
day.  So  they  greeted  the  big  farm  wagons  that 
presently  rolled  up  with  a chorus  of  laughs  and 
cheers,  and  the  drivers  blinked  with  astonishment 
as  they  heard  the  Wohelo  cheer  ring  out. 

There  were  two  of  th°  wagons,  so  that  there 
was  room  for  all  of  them  without  crowding. 
Bessie  and  Zara  rode  in  the  first  one,  close  to 
Wanaka,  who  had,  of  course,  taken  them  under 
her  wing. 


126 


THE  CAMP  PIPE  GIRLS 


j 


“You  stay  close  by  me,”  sbe  said  to  tliem.  “I 
want  you  to  meet  Mrs.  Chester  as  soon  as  we  get 
to  the  camp.” 

“Where  is  it!” 

“That’s  the  surprise  I told  the  girls  I had  for 
them  this  morning.  A friend  of  Mrs.  Chester, 
who  has  a beautiful  place  near  here,  has  let  us  use 
it  for  a camping  ground.  It ’s  the  most  wonderful 
place  you  ever  saw.  There  are  deer,  quite  tame, 
and  all  sorts  of  lovely  things.  But  you’ll  see  more 
of  that  in  the  morning,  of  course.  We’ve  all  got 
to  be  ever  so  careful,  though,  not  to  frighten  the 
deer  or  to  hurt  anything  about  the  place.  It’s 
very  good  of  General  Seeley  to  let  us  be  there 
at  all,  and  we  must  show  him  that  we  are  grate- 
ful. For  the  girls  who  couldn’t  get  far  away 
from  the  city  it’s  been  particularly  splendid,  be- 
cause they  couldn’t  possibly  have  such  a good 
time  anywhere  else  that’s  near  by.” 

“Oh!”  cried  Bessie,  a moment  later,  Us  the 
wagons  turned  from  the  road  into  a lane  that  was 
flanked  on  both  sides  by  great  trees.  “I  never 
saw  a place  so  pretty!” 

Wide  lawns  stretched  all  around  them.  But  in 
the  distance  a pink  glow,  among  a grove  of  trees, 
marked  the  real  home  of  the  Camp  Fire. 


CHAPTER  XH 


A NEW  SUSPICION 

“I  think  the  fire  is  more  beautiful  than  any-? 
thing  else,  almost,”  said  the  Guardian,  as  she 
looked  at  it  and  pointed  it  out  to  Bessie  and 
Zara.  “It  means  so  much.” 

“It  looks  like  a welcome,  Wanaka.” 

“That’s  just  what  it  is— a real,  hearty  welcome. 
It  shows  us  that  our  sisters  of  the  fire  are  there 
waiting  for  us,  ready  to  make  us  comfortable  after 
the  trouble  of  the  day.  Around  the  fire  we  can 
forget  all  the  bad  things  that  have  happened,  and 
think  only  of  the  good.” 

“It’s  easy  to  do  that  now.  I’ve  been  fright- 
ened since  Jake  locked  Zara  up  in  the  woodshed, 
awfully  frightened.  And  I’ve  been  unhappy,  too. 
But  I’ve  been  happier  in  these  last  two  days  than 
1 ever  was  before.” 

“That’s  the  right  spirit,  Bessie.  Make  your 
misfortunes  work  out  so  that  you  think  only  of 
the  good  they  bring.  That’s  the  way  to  be  happy, 
always.  You  know,  it’s  an  old,  old  saying  that 
every  cloud  has  a silver  lining,  but  it’s  just  as 
true  as  it’s  old,  too.  People  laugh  at  those  old 
proverbs  sometimes,— people  who  think  they  know 

m 


128 


THE  CAMP  PIPE  GIRLS 


more  than  anyone  else  ever  did— but  in  tbe  end 
they  usually  admit  that  they  don’t  really  know 
much  more  about  life  and  happiness  than  the 
people  who  discovered  those  great  truths  first,  or 
spoke  about  them  first,  even  if  someone  else  had 
discovered  them.” 

“I’ve  been  happy,  too,”  said  Zara,  but  there 
was  a break  in  her  voice.  “If  I only  knew  that 
my  father  was  all  right,  then  I wouldn’t  be  able 
to  be  anything  but  happy,  now  that  I know  Far- 
mer Weeks  can’t  take  me  with  him.” 

“You  must  try  not  to  worry  about  your  father, 
Zara.  I’m  sure  that  all  his  troubles  will  be 
mended  soon,  just  like  yours.  Don’t  you  feel  that 
someone  has  been  looking  after  you  in  all  your 
troubles  f ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh,  yes ! I never,  never  would  have  been  able 
to  get  away  from  Farmer  Weeks  except  for 
that—” 

“Well,  just  try  to  think  that  He  will  look  after 
your  father,  too,  Zara.  If  he  has  done  nothing 
wrong  he  can’t  be  punished,  you  may  be  sure  of 
that.  This  isn’t  Russia,  or  one  of  those  old 
countries  where  people  can  be  sent  to  prison  with- 
out having  done  anything  to  deserve  it,  just  be- 
cause other  people  with  more  money  or  more 
power  don’t  like  them.  We  live  in  a free  country. 
Be  sure  that  all  will  turn  out  right  in  the  end.” 

“I  feel  cramped,  Miss  Eleanor.  May  I get  out 
and  run  along  by  the  horses  for  a little  while?” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


129 


“Yes,  indeed,  Zara.” 

And  Wanaka  stopped  the  wagon,  so  that  she 
could  get  out. 

“Do  you  want  to  go,  too,  Bessie?” 

“I  think  I’d  rather  ride,  Miss  Eleanor.  I’m 
awfully  tired.” 

“You  shall,  then.  I want  you  to  do  whatever 
you  like  to-night.  You’ve  certainly  done  enough 
to-day  to  earn  the  right  to  rest.” 

They  rode  along  in  silence  for  a few  minutes, 
while  the  glow  of  the  great  welcoming  fire  grew 
brighter. 

“Miss  Eleanor!” 

“Yes,  Bessie!” 

“Don’t  you  think  it’s  very  strange  that  Farmer 
Weeks  should  take  so  much  trouble  to  try  to  get 
hold  of  Zara?” 

“I  do,  indeed,  Bessie.  I’ve  been  puzzling  about 
that.  ’ ’ 

“I  believe  he  knows  something  about  her  and 
her  father  that  no  one  else  knows,  something  that 
even  Zara  doesn’t  know  about,  I mean.  You  know, 
he  and  Zara’s  father  were  very  friendly  at  first — 
or,  at  least,  they  used  to  see  one  another  a good 
deal.” 

“Yes?  Bessie,  what  sort  of  man  is  Zara’s 
father?  You  have  seen  a good  deal  of  him, 
haven’t  you?” 

“I  used  to  go  to  see  Zara  sometimes,  when  I 
was  able  to  get  away.  And  unless  he  was  away 


130 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


! 


on  one  of  his  trips  he  was  always  around,  hut  he 
never  said  much.  ’ ’ 

“He  could  speak  English,  couldn't  he?” 

“Yes,  but  not  a bit  well.  And  when  I first 
went  there  he  was  awfully  funny.  He  seemed  to 
be  quite  angry  because  I was  there,  and  as  soon 
as  I came,  he  rushed  into  one  of  the  rooms,  and 
put  a lot  of  things  away,  and  covered  them  so  I 
couldn’t  see  them.  But  Zara  talked  to  him  in  their 
own  language,  and  then  he  was  very  nice,  and  he 
gave  me  a penny.  I didn’t  want  it,  but  he  made 
me  take  it  and  Zara  said  I ought  to  have  it,  too.” 

“It  looks  as  if  he  had  had  something  to  hide, 
Bessie.  But  then  a man  might  easily  want  to  keep 
people  from  finding  out  all  about  his  business  with- 
out there  being  anything  wrong.” 

“If  you’d  seen  him,  Miss  Eleanor,  I’m  sure 
you  wouldn’t  think  he’d  do  anything  wrong.  He 
had  the  nicest  face,  and  his  eyes  were  kind.  And 
after  that,  sometimes,  I’d  go  there  when  Zara 
was  out,  and  he  was  always  just  as  nice  and  kind 
as  he  could  be.  He  used  to  get  me  to  talk  to  him, 
too,  so  that  he  could  learn  to  speak  English.” 

“Well,  there’s  something  very  strange  and 
mysterious  about  it  all.  You  found  this  Mr. 
Weeks  there  the  night  he  was  taken  away,  didn’t 
you?” 

“Yes.” 

“That  looks  as  if  he  had  something  to  do  with 
it.  I don’t  know — but  we’ll  find  out  the  truth 

some  time,  Bessie.” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


131 

“I  hope  it  will  be  soon.  And,  Miss  Eleanor, 
I’ve  been  waiting  a long  time  to  find  out  about 
myself,  too.  Sometimes 'I  think  I’m  worse  off 
than  Zara,  because  I don’t  know  where  my  father 
and  mother  are,  or  even  what  became  of  them.  ’ ’ 

The  Guardian  started. 

“Poor  Bessie!”  she  said.  “But  we’ll  have  to 
try  to  find  out  for  you.  There  are  ways  of  doing 
that  that  the  Hoovers  would  never  think  of.  And 
I’m  sure  there’ll  be  some  explanation.  They’d 
never  just  go  away  and  leave  you,  without  trying 
to  find  out  if  you  were  well  and  look  after  you.” 

“Not  if  they  could  help  it,  Miss  Eleanor.” 
Bessie ’s  eyes  filled  with  tears.  ‘ £ But  perhaps  they 
couldn’t.  Perhaps  they  are— dead.” 

“We  must  try  to  be  cheerful,  Bessie.  After  all,, 
you  know,  they  say  no  news  is  good  news,  and 
when  you  don’t  positively  know  that  something 
dreadful  has  happened,  you  can  always  go  on 
hoping.  ’ ’ 

“Oh,  I do,  Miss  Eleanor!  Sometimes  I’ve  felt 
so  bad  that  if  I hadn’t  been  able  to  hope,  I don’t 
know  what  I’d  have  done.  Aud  Jake  Hoover,  he 
used  to  laugh  at  me,  and  say  that  I’d  never  see 
them  again.  He  said  they  were  just  bad  people, 
who  were  glad  to  get  rid  of  me.  But  I never  be- 
lieved that.”  / 

“That’s  right,  Bessie.  You  keep  on  hoping,, 
and  we’ll  do  all  we  can  to  make  your  hopes  true, 
Hope  is  a wonderful  thing  for  people  who  are  in 


132 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIRLS 


trouble.  They  can  always  hope  that  things  will 
foe  better,  and  if  they  only  hope  hard  enough,  they 
will  come  to  believe  it.  And  once  you  believe  a 
thing,  it’s  half  true,  especially  when  it’s  a question 
of  doing  something.” 

“How  do  you  mean?” 

“Why,  I’ll  try  to  explain.  When  Mrs.  Chester 
first  wanted  me  to  take  charge  of  a Camp  Fire 
I thought  I was  just  a silly,  stupid,  useless  girl. 
But  she  said  she  knew  I wasn’t,  and  that  I could 
make  myself  useful.” 

“You  certainly  have.” 

“I’m  trying,  Bes_sie,  all  the  time.  Well,  she  told 
me  to  wish  that  I might  succeed.  And  I did.  And 
then  I began  to  hope  for  it  and  to  want  it  so 
much  that  gradually  I believed  I could.  And  as 
soon  as  I believed  it  myself,  why,  it  began  to 
come.  ’ ’ 

“You  wanted  to  so  much— that’s  why,  I sup- 
pose. ’ ’ 

“Yes.  You  see,  when  you  believe  you  can  do  a 
thing,  you  don’t  get  discouraged  when  you  fail 
at  first.  It’s  when  you’re  doubtful  and  think  you 
can’t  do  a thing  at  all,  that  it’s  hardest.  Then 
when  anything  goes  wrong,  it’s  just' what  you  ex- 
pected, and  it  makes  you  surer  than  ever  that 
you’re  going  to  fail.” 

“Oh,  I see  that!  I understand  now,  I think.” 

“Remember  that,  Bessie.  It’s  done  me  more 
good,  knowing  that,  than  almost  anything  else  I 


IN  THE  WOODS 


133 


can  think  of.  When  yon  start  to  do  a thing,  no 
matter  how  hard  it  is,  be  hopeful  and  confident. 
Then  the  set-backs  won’t  bother  you,  because 
you’ll  know  that  it’s  just  because  you’ve  chosen 
the  wrong  way,  and  you  go  back  and  start  again, 
looking  for  the  right  way.” 

“Oh,  look!”  said  Bessie,  suddenly.  “Isn’t  it 
growing  black?  Do  you  see  that  big  cloud?  And 
I’m  sure  I felt  drops  of  rain  just  then.” 

“I  believe  it  is  going  to  rain.  That’s  too  bad. 
It  will  spoil  the  great  Council  Fire.” 

“Won’t  they  have  it  if  it  rains?” 

“I’m  not  sure  whether  there’s  a big  enough 
place  inside  or  not.  But,  even  if  there  is,  it’s 
much  better  fun  to  have  it  out  of  doors— a great 
big  fire  always  seems  more  cheerful  if  it’s  under 
the  trees,  so  that  the  great  shadows  can  dance 
about.  And  the  singing  sounds  so  much  better  in 
the  open  air,  too.  Oh,  I do  hope  this  won’t  be  a 
real  storm!” 

But  that  hope  was  doomed  to  disappointment. 
The  rain  came  down  slowly  at  first,  and  in  great 
drops,  but  as  the  wagons  neared  the  fire  and  got 
under  the  shelter  of  the  trees,  the  wind  rose,  and 
soon  the  rain  was  ponring  down  in  great  sheets, 
with  flashes  of  lightning  now  and  then.  As  they 
climbed  out  by  the  fire  it  hissed  and  spluttered  as 
the  rain  fell  into  it.  No  girls  were  in  sight. 

“They  must  all  have  gone  in  to  get  out  of  the 
a’ain,  or  else  they’d  be  out  here  to  welcome  us,” 


134 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


said  the  Guardian.  “Oh,  there’s  Mrs.  Chester!  I 
knew  she  wouldn’t  let  the  rain  keep  her!” 

And  Wanaka  ran  forward  to  greet  a sweet- 
faced  woman  whose  hair  was  slightly  tinged  with 
grey,  hut  whose  face  was  as  rosy  and  as  smiling 
as  that  of  a young  girl.  Bessie  and  Zara  followed 
Eleanor  shyly,  but  Mrs.  Chester  put  them  at  their 
ease  in  a moment. 

“I’ve  heard  all  about  you,”  she  said.  “And 
I’m  not  going  to  start  in  by  telling  you  I’m  sorry 
for  you,  either,  because  I’m  not!” 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  laugh  that  was  in  her 
eyes,  and  her  smile,  the  words  might  have  seemed 
unkind. 

“I  don’t  believe  in  being  sorry  for  what’s 
past,  ’ ’ the  Chief  Guardian  explained  at  once.  ‘ ‘ If 
people  are  brave  and  good,  trouble  only  helps 
them.  And  it’s  the  future  we  must  think  about, 
always.  .That  is  in  your  own  hands  now,  and  I’m 
sure  you’re  going  to  deserve  to  be  happy— and 
if  you  do,  you  can’t  help  finding  happiness. 
That’s  what  I.  mean.” 

The  two  girls  liked  her  at  once.  There  was 
something  so  motherly,  so  kind  and  wholesome 
about  Mrs.  Chester,  that  they  felt  as  if  they  had 
known  her  a long  time. 

“I  don’t  know  about  the  Council  Fire  to-night,. 
Eleanor,”  she  said,  looking  doubtfully  at  the  rain. 
“It’s  too  damp,  I’m  afraid,  to  have' it  outdoors, 
and  you  know  that  there  are  so  many  times  when 


IN  THE  WOODS 


135 

we  have  to  hold  the  ceremonial  fires  indoors,  that 
I hate  to  do  it  when,  by  waiting  a day,  we  can 
have  it  in  this  beautiful  place.” 

“Yes,  that’s  so,”  said  Eleanor.  “It’s  almost 
sure  to  be  clear  to-morrow.  And  in  winter,  when 
it  gets  cold,  we  can’t  even  hope  to  be  outdoors 
very  much,  except  for  skating  and  snowshoeing. 
Do  you  know,  girls,  that  in  winter  we  sometimes 
use  three  candles  instead  of  a real  fire!” 

“Yes,”  said  Mrs.  Chester.  “Of  course,  after 
all,  it’s  the  meaning  of  the  fire,  and  not  just  the 
fire  itself  that  counts.  But  I think  it’s  better  to 
have  both  when  we  can.  So  I’m  afraid  you’ll  have 
to  wait  until  to-morrow  night  for  your  first 
Council  Fire,  girls.” 

Eleanor  looked  at  them.  Then  she  laughed. 

“Really,  it’s  a good  thing,  after  all,”  she  said. 
“They’re  so  tired  that  they  can  hardly  keep 
their  eyes  open  now,  Mrs.  Chester.  I hope  there’s 
going  to  be  a good,  hot  supper.” 

“There  certainly  is,  my  dear!  And  your  girls 
won’t  have  to  cook  it,  either.  Just  for  to-night 
you’re  to  be  guests  of  honor.  And  the  new  Camp 
Fire— the  Snug  Harbor  camp,  you  know— begged 
me  so  hard  to  be  allowed  to  cook  the  meal  and 
serve  it,  that  I agreed.  Julia  Kent  has  done 
wonders  with  those  girls.  You’d  think  they’d 
been  cooking  and  working  ail  their  lives,  instead 
of  it  having  been  just  the  other  way  ’round.  And 
they  simply  worship  her.  Well,  there  are  your 


136 


THE  CAMP  PIPE  GIRLS 


tents  over  there.  You’ll  hear  the  call  to  supper 
in  a few  minutes.  ’ ’ 

She  turned  and  left  them,  and  Eleanor  led  the 
way  to  the  tents  she  had  pointed  out. 

“I’m  so  delighted  to  hear  about  the  Snug  Har- 
bor girls,”  she  told  Bessie  and  Zara.  “You 
know  we ’ve  wondered  how  that  was  going  to  turn 
out.  There  are  about  a dozen  of  them,  and  they’re 
all  girls  whose  parents  are  rich.  They  go  to 
Europe,  and  have  motor  cars,  and  lovely  clothes, 
and  servants— two  or  three  of  them  have  their 
own  maids,  and  they’ve  never  even  learned  to  keep 
their  own  rooms  neat.” 

“But  if  they’re  going  to  cook  our  supper—” 

“That’s  just  it,  Bessie.  That’s  what  the  Camp 
Eire  has  done  for  them.  It  has  taught  them  that 
instead  of  being  proud  of  never  having  to  do  any- 
thing for  themselves,  they  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
not  knowing  how.  And  before  the  summer’s  over 
I believe  they’ll  be  the  best  of  all  the  Camp  Fires 
in  the  whole  city.” 

Supper,  in  spite  of  the  storm  that  raged  out- 
side, was  a jolly,  happy  meal.  The  girls  were 
tired,  but  they  brightened  as  the  meal  was  served, 
and  the  few  mistakes  of  the  amateur  waitresses 
only  made  everyone  laugh. 

Taps,  the  signal  for  bedtime,  sounded  early. 
All  the  girls,  from  the  different  Camp  Fires,  were 
together  for  a moment. 

“We ’ll  have  the  Council  Fire  to-morrow  night,” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


1ST 


said  Mrs.  Chester.  “And  the  longer  yon  sleep 
to-night,  the  readier  you’ll  he  to-morrow  for  alL 
the  things  we  have  to  do.  Good-night!” 

And  then,  after  all  the  girls  together  had  sung" 
the  beautiful  “Lay  me  to  sleep  in  sheltering; 
flame,”  silence  rested  on  the  camp. 

Bessie  slept  like  a log.  But  in  the  morning  she 
awoke  while  everyone  else  was  still  asleep.  In 
the  east  the  sky  was  just  turning  pink,  with  the 
first  signs  of  the  coming  day.  The  sky  was  a 
deep,  beautiful  blue,  and  in  the  west,  where  it  was 
still  dark,  the  last  stars  were  still  twinkling. 
Bessie  sighed  with  the  beauty  of  everything,  and 
the  sense  of  comfort  and  peace  that  she  enjoyed. 
Then  she  tried  to  go  to  sleep  again,  but  she  could 
not.  She  had  too  many  things  to  think  about. 
Zara,  disturbed  by  her  movements,  woke  up  too, 
and  looked  at  her  sleepily. 

, “You  remember,”  said  Bessie,  “that  Wanaka 
told  us  last  night  that  in  a field  not  far  away  there 
were  loads  and  loads  of  wild  strawberries  that  we 
could  pick?  I think  I’ll  get  dressed  and  see  if  I 
can’t  get  enough  for  breakfast,  as  a surprise.” 

“Shall  I come  with  you?”  asked  Zara. 

“No,”  said  Bessie,  laughing.  “You  go  to 
sleep  again— you’re  only  half  awake  now!” 

She  bad  no  trouble  in  finding  the  strawberries, 
although,  just  because  it  was  so  beautiful,  she 
walked  around  the  great  estate  for  quite  a while 
first.  It  was  a wonderful  place.  Parts  of  it  were 


133 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


beautifully  cared  for,  with  smooth,  well  clipped  , 
lawns,  and  a few  old  trees;  parts  were  left  just 
as  nature  had  meant  them  to  he,  and  to  Bessie 
they  seemed  even  more  beautiful.  And  still  other 
acres  were  turned  into  farm  lands,  where  there 
were  all  sorts  of  growing  crops. 

A few  gardeners  were  about,  and  they  smiled 
-at  Bessie  as  they  saw  her.  She  saw  some  of  the 
■ deer  that  Eleanor  had  spoken  of,  too,  who  were 
;so  tame  that  they  let  her  come  as  close  as  she 
•liked.  But  she  spent  little  time  in  looking  at  them, 
and  when  she  found  the  field  where  the  berries 
grew  she  had  soon  picked  a great  apronful  of 
them.  When  she  returned  everyone  was  up,  and 
she  was  greeted  with  cries  of  joy  when  the  girls 
saw  her  burden. 

■“They’ll  make  our  breakfast  ever  so  much 
nicer,”  said  Eleanor.  “It  was  good  of  you  to 
think  of  them.” 

Not  until  after  breakfast  did  they  see  Mrs. 
Chester— not,  indeed,  until  all  the  dishes  had  been 
washed  and  put  away.  And  then  she  approached 
with  a grave  face,  and  called  the  Guardian  aside. 
They  talked  together  earnestly  for  a few  min- 
utes, and  Eleanor’s  face  grew  as  serious  as  the 
Chief  Guardian’s.  Bessie  saw  that  they  looked 
at  her  more  than  once  as  they  spoke,  and  that 
Eleanor  shook  her  head  repeatedly. 

‘ ‘ I wonder  what  can  be  wrong,  Zara,  ’ ’ she  said. 


IN  THE  WOODS 


139 


'“Do  you  suppose  that  Parmer  Weeks  has  been 
making  trouble  for  us  again?” 

“Oh,  I hope  not!  Do  you  think  it’s  about  us 
they’re  talking?” 

“I’m  afraid  so.  See,  they’re  calling  me.  We’ll 
soon  know.” 

Bessie  did,  indeed,  soon  know,  what  had  hap- 
pened. 

4 f Bessie,”  said  Mrs.  Chester,  “did  you  go  any- 
where else  this  morning  when  you  went  for 
berries  ? ’ ’ 

“I  just  walked  about  the  place,  Mrs.  Chester, 
and  looked  around.  That’s  all.” 

4 4 But  you  were  quite  alone  ? ’ ’ 

4 4 Yes,  quite  alone.  I only  saw  a few  men  who 
were  working,  cutting  the  grass,  and  trimming 
hedges.  ’ ’ 

4 4 Oh,  I ’m  sorry ! Bessie,  over  there  in  the 
woods  there’s  a place  that’s  fenced  off,  where 
General  Seeley  keeps  a lot  of  pheasants.  And 
some  time  since  last  night  someone  has  been  in 
there  and  frightened  the  mother  birds  and  taken  a 
lot  of  the  eggs.  Some  of  them  were  broken— and 
it  was  not  an  animal.” 

Bessie  looked  frightened  and  concerned. 

4 4 Oh,  what  a shame!  But,  Mrs.  Chester,  you 
don’t  think  I did  it?” 


CHAPTER  XIII 


A TANGLED  WEB 

Bessie’s  eyes  were  full  of  fear  and  dismay  as 
she  looked  at  Mrs.  Chester  and  Eleanor.  At  first 
she  hadn’t  thought  it  even  possible  that  they  could 
think  she  had  done  anything  so  cruel  as  to  frighten 
the  birds  and  steal  their  eggs,  but  there  was  a 
grave  look  on  their  faces  that  terrified  her. 

‘‘No,  Bessie,”  said  Mrs.  Chester,  “I  don’t  be- 
lieve you  did — certainly,  I don’t  want  to  believe 
anything  of  the  sort.” 

“I  know  you  didn’t  do  it,  Bessie!”  cried  Elea- 
nor Mercer. 

“But  General  Seeley  Is  very  indignant  about 
it,  Bessie,”  Mrs.  Chester  went  on  to  say.  “And 
some  of  the  men  told  him  that  one  of  the  girls 
from  the  camp  was  around  very  early  this  morn- 
ing, before  anyone  else  was  up,  walking  about, 
and  looking  at  things.  So  he  seemed  to  think 
right  away  that  she  must  have  done  it.  And  he 
sent  for  me  and  asked  me  if  I could  find  out  which 
of  you  girls  had  been  out.” 

“Bessie  went  out  openly,  and  she  came  back 
when  we  were  all  up,”  said  Eleanor,  stoutly.  ‘{If 
she’d  been  doing  anything  wrong,  Mrs.  Chester, 


140 


IN  THE  WOODS 


141 


she  would  have  tried  to  get  here  without  being 
seen,  wouldn’t  she?” 

“I  know,  Eleanor,  I know,”  said  Mrs.  Chester,, 
kindly.  “You  think  she  couldn’t  have  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  it— and  so  do  I,  really.  But  for 
Bessie’s  own  sake  we  want  to  clear  it  up,  don’t 
we  ? ’ ’ 

Bessie  stood  her  ground  bravely,  and  kept  back 
the  tears,  although  it  hurt  her  more  to  have  these 
friends  who  had  been  so  good  to  her  bothered 
about  her  than  it  would  had  almost  anything  hap- 
pened to  her. 

“Oh,  I wish  I’d  never  seen  you,  Miss  Eleanor!” 
she  cried.  “I’ve  done  nothing  but  make  trouble 
for  you  ever  since  you  found  us.  I’m  so  sorry! 
Zara  wanted  to  come  with  me  this  morning,  and: 
if  I’d  let  her,  she  could  have  told  you  that  I didn’t 
even  see  the  birds.” 

“It’ll  all  come  out  right,  Bessie,”  said  Mrs. 
Chester.  “I  thought  perhaps  you  might  have 
done  it  by  accident,  but  if  you  weren’t  there  we’ll 
find  out  who  really  did  do  it,  never  fear.  Now, 
you  had  better  come  with  me.  General  Seeley 
asked  me  to  bring  any  of  the  girls  who  had  been 
out  this  morning  with  me  when  I went  to  see  him. 
He  will  want  to  talk  to  you  himself,  I think.” 

So  Bessie,  tears  in  her  eyes,  which  she  tried 
bravely  to  keep  back,  had  to  go  np  to  the  big 
house  that  they  could  see  through  the  trees.  It 
was  a big,  rambling  house,  built  of  grey  stone. 


142 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


with  many  windows,  and  -all  about  it  were  beds 
of  flowers.  Bessie  had  never  seen  a house  that 
was  even  half  so  fine. 

“General  Seeley  is  very  particular  about  his 
birds,  and  all  the  animals  oh  the  place,  ’ ’ explained 
Mrs.  Chester,  as  they  made  their  way  toward  the 
house.  “Some  men  keep  pheasants  just  so  that 
they  can  shoot  them  in  the  autumn,  and  they  call 
that  sport.  But  General  Seeley  doesn’t  allow 
that.  He’s  a kind  and  gentle  man,  although  he’s 
a soldier.” 

“Has  he  ever  been  in  a v/ar,  Mrs.  Chester!” 

“Yes.  Pie’s  a real  patriot,  and  when  his 
country  needed  him  he  went  out  to  fight,  like  many 
other  brave  and  gentle  men.  But,  like  most  men 
who  are  really  brave,  he  hates  to  see  anyone  or 
even  any  animal,  hurt.  Soldiers  aren’t  rough  and 
brutal  just  because  they  sometimes  have  to  go  to 
war  and  fight.  They  know  so  much  about  how 
horrible  war  is  that  they’re  really  the  best  friends 
of  peace.  ” 

“I  never  knew  that.  I thought  they  liked  to 
fight.  ’ ’ 

“No,  it’s  just  the  other  way  round.  When  you 
hear  men  talk  about  how  fine  war  is,  and  how 
they  hope  this  country  will  have  one  some  time 
soon,  you  can  make  up  your  mind  that  they  are 
boasters  and  bullies,  and  that  if  a war  really  came 
they’d  stay  home  and  let  someone  else  do  the 
fighting.  It  isn’t  the  people  who  talk  the  most 


N 

IN  THE  WOODS  - 143 

and  brag  the  loudest  who  step  to  the  front  when 
there’s  something  really  hard  to  be  done.  They 
leave  that  to  the  qniet  people.” 

Then  they  walked  along  in  silence.  The  place 
seemed  even  more  beautiful  now,  but  Bessie  was 
too  upset  to  appreciate  its  loveliness.  She  won- 
dered if  General  Seeley  would  believe  her,  or  if 
he  would  be  more  like  Maw  Hoover  than  Mrs. 
Chester. 

‘‘We’ll  find  him  on  the  porch  in  the  back  of  the 
house,  I think,  Bessie.  If  he’s  there  we  can  find 
him  without  going  inside  and  bothering  the  serv- 
ants. So  we’ll  go  around  and  see.” 

General  Seeley  was  a small  man,  with  white 
beard  and  moustache,  and  at  her  first  look  at  him 
Bessie  thought  he  looked  very  fierce  indeed,  and 
every  inch  a soldier,  though  there  were  so  few 
inches..  He  had  sharp  blue  eyes  that  were  keen 
and  piercing,  and  after  he  had  risen  and  bowed 
to  Mrs.  Chester,  which  he  did  as  soon  as  he  saw 
her,  he  looked  sharply  at  Bessie— so  sharply  that 
she  was  sure  at  once  that  he  had  judged  her  al- 
ready, and  was  very  angry  at  her. 

“Well,  well,  so  you’ve  found  the  poacher  and 
brought  her  with  you,  eh?”  he  said.  “Sit  down, 
ma’am,  sit  down,  while  I talk  to  her!” 

And  now  Bessie  saw  that  there  was  really  a 
twinkle  in  the  keen  eyes,  and  that  he  wasn’t  as 
angry  as  he  looked. 

“What’s  her  name?  Bessie,  eh?  Bessie  King? 


144 


THE  CAMP  FIEE  GIELS 


Well,  sit  down,  Bessie,  and  we’ll  have  a talk.  No 
use  standing  up— none  at  all!  Might  as  well  be 
comfortable!” 

“Thank  you,  sir,”  said  Bessie,  and  sat  down. 
She  was  still  nervous,  hut  her  fright  was  lessened. 
He  was- much  more  kindly  than  she  had  expected 
him  to  be,  somehow. 

“Now,  let’s  find  out  all  about  this,  Bessie. 
Didn’t  you  know  you  oughtn’t  to  frighten  the 
birds?  Or  didn’t  you  think  they’d  be  frightened 
'~eh,  what?” 

Bessie  didn’t  understand,  fully,  at  first. 

“But  I didn’t  frighten  them,  sir,”  she  said. 

“They  thought  so.  Stupid  birds,  eh,  to  think 
they  were  frightened  when  they  weren’t?  But 
you  remember  they  didn’t  know  any  better.” 

He  laughed  merrily  at  his  own  joke,  and 
glanced  at  Mrs.  Chester,  as  if  he  expected  her  to 
laugh,  too,  and  to  be  amused,  but  her  eyes  were 
troubled,  and  she  was  very  thoughtful. 

“Come,  come,”  he  went  on.  “It’s  not  so  very 
terrible,  after  all!  We’ve  all  of  us  done  things 
we. were  sorry  for— eh,  Mrs.  Chester?  I’ll  wager 
that  even  yon  have— and  I know  very  well  that 
there  are  lots  of  things  I can  think  of  that  I did 
just  because  I didn’t  think  there  was  any  harm 
in  them.” 

“Some  people  wouldn’t  admit  that,  General 
Seeley,  hut  it’s  very  true,”  said  Mrs.  Chester.  “I 
know  it  is  in  my  case.  ’ ’ 


IN  THE  WOODS 


145 


“Well,  well,  can’t  you  talk,  Bessie  1 Aren’t 
you  going  to  tell  me  you’re  sorry  and  that  you 
won’t  do  it  again?” 

“I’m  sorry  the  birds  were  frightened,”  said 
Bessie,  bravely.  “But  I can’t  say  that  I won’t 
do  it  again—” 

“What’s  that?  What’s  that?  Bless  me,  what’s 
the  use  of  saying  you’re  sorry  if  you  mean  to  do 
it  the  next  time  you  get  a chance  ? ’ ’ 

The  general  was  flushed  as  he  spoke,  and  his 
eyes  held  the  same  angry  look  they  had  worn  at 
first.  Mrs.  Chester  sighed  and  decided  that  it 
was  time  for  her  to  speak. 

“I  don’t  think  that  was  just  what  Bessie  meant, 
General.  I think  you  didn’t  understand  her—” 

“Well,  well,  perhaps  not!  What  do  you  mean, 
Bessie?” 

“I  mean  I can’t  promise  not  to  do  it  again, 
sir,  because  I didn’t  do  it  at  all,  in  the  first  place. 
Really,  I didn’t—” 

“Oh,  nonsense!”  said  the  general,  testily. 
“I’m  ready  to  overlook  it— don’t  you  understand 
that?  All  I want  you  to  do  is  to  confess,  and  to 
say  you’re  sorry.  Nothing’s  going  to  happen  to 

you ! ’ ’ 

“I  can’t  confess  when  I didn’t  do  it,”  pleaded 
Bessie.  “And  if  I had  done  it,  I’d  say  so,  whether 
anything  was  going  to  happen  to  me  or  not.  That 
wouldn’t  make  any  difference.” 

General  Seeley  jumped  to  his  feet. 


146  TUB  CAMP  PISE  GIBLS 

“Oli,  come,  come!  That’s  nonsense!”  he  said. 
“Who  else  could  have  done  it,  eh?  Answer  me 
that!  I’ve  said  I’d  forgive  you—” 

“But,  General,”  protested  Mrs.  Chester,  “if 
Bessie  didn’t  do  it,  she’d  be  telling  you  an  un- 
truth if  sue  said  she  had— and  you  wouldn’t  have 
her  do  that?” 

“I’m  a just  man,  Mrs.  Chester,  but  I know 
wh,at’s  what.  She  must  have  done  it— she  was 
around  the  place.  And  I know  that  none  of  my 
men  did  it.  They  know  better!  No  one'  but  the 
game-keepers  are  allowed  to  go  into  the  preserve, 
and  they  all  know  they’d  be  dismissed  at  once  if 
they  disobeyed  my  rules  about  that.  I’m  strict- 
very  strict!  I insist  upon  obedience  of  orders 
and  truthfulness — learned  the  need  of  them  when 
I was  in  the  army.  Don’t  you  think  I can  tell 
what’s  going  on  here,  ma’am?” 

“I  think  you’re  mistaken,  General— that’s  all. 
I’m  sure  Bessie  is  telling  the  truth.  Why  shouldn’t 
she?  You’ve  told  her  that  she  needn’t  he  afraid 
to  confess  if  she  did  frighten  the  birds,  and  that 
■was  very  kind  and  generous  of  you.  So,  if  she 
had,  she  wouldn’t  have  anything  to  lose  by  saying 
so,  and  promising  not  to  be  careless  that  way 
again.  ’ ’ 

“What  do  you  know  about  her,  ma’am?  Isn’t 
it  true  that  she’s  one  of  the  two  girls  you  told  me 
about  last  night — that  Miss  Mercer  had  found?/ 
If-” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


“I  know  she’s  a brave,  honest  girl,  GsnerpV 
She’s  proved  that  already.” 

“I  disagree  with  yon,  Mrs.  Chester,”  said  t’  ) 
general,  stiffly.  “You’re  a lady,  and  yon  nat- 
urally think  well  of  everyone.  I’ve  learned  by 
bitter  experience  that  we  can’t  always  do  that.. 
I’ve  trusted  men,  and  had  them  go  wrong,  despite 
that.  If  she  was  one  of  the  girls'  like  the  others, 
that  you’d  always  known  about,  it  would  be  dif- 
ferent. Then  I’d  be  happy  to  take  your  word  fo:  ■ 
it.  But  when  I think  you  aren’t  in  any  better  po  - 
sition to  judge  than  I am,  I’ve  got  to  use  my  own, 
judgment.  ’ ’ 

“I’m  sorry,  General,”  said  Mrs.  Chester.  “1 
can’t  tell  you  how  sorry  I am— but  I’m  sure  you’re 
wrong.  ’ ’ 

“She  can’t  stay  here,  that’s  certain,”  said  the 
general,  testily.  “I  can’t  have  a girl  about  the 
place  who  frightens  my  birds  and  then  tells — 
lies — ” 

Bessie  eried  ont  sharply  at  that  word. 

“Oh — oh!”  she  said.  “Really,  I’ve  told  you 
the  truth— I have,  indeed!  If  I said  what  you 
want  me  to  say,  then  I’d  he  lying— but  I’m  not.”” 

“Silence,  please!”  said  General  Seeley,  sternly. 
“I’m  talking  with  Mrs.  Chester  now,  young- 
woman.  You’ve  had  your  chance— and  yon 
wouldn’t  take  it.  Now  I’m  done  with  you!” 

“What  do  you  mean,  General?”  asked  Mrs. 
Chester,  looking  very  grave. 


148 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“You’ll  have  to  send  her  away— where  she 
<came  from,  Mrs.  Chester.  Yon  and  the  girls  you 
can  vouch  for  are  welcome,  but  I can’t  have  her 
here.  ’ ’ 

“I  can’t  do  that,  General,”  said  Mrs.  Chester, 
not  angrily,  but  gravely,  and  looking  him  straight 
in  the  eyes. 

“But  you  must!  I won’t  let  her  stay  here! 
And  these  are  my  grounds,  aren’t  they?” 

‘ ‘ Certainly ! But  if  Bessie  goes,  we  all  go  with 
her.  It’s  not  our  way  to  desert  those  we’ve  once 
befriended  and  taken  in,  General.” 

“That  is  for  you  to  decide,  ma’am,”  he  said, 
stiffly.  He  got  up  and  bowed  to  her.  “I’m  sorry 
that  this  should  cause  a quarrel—” 

“It  hasn’t,”  said  Mrs.  Chester,  smiling.  “It 
takes  two  to  make  a quarrel,  and  I simply  won’t 
quarrel  with  you,  General.  I know  you’ll  be 
sorry  for  what  you’ve  said  when  you  think  it 
over.  Come,  Bessie!” 

Bessie,  quite  stunned  by  the  trouble- that  had 
come  upon  them  so  suddenly  out  of  a clear  sky, 
couldn’t  speak  for  a minute. 

“Oh,”  she  said,  then,  “you  don’t  mean  that  all 
the  girls  will  have  to  leave  this  lovely  place  be- 
cause of  me?” 

“Not  because  of  you,  but  because  of  a mistake 
that’s  not  your  fault,  Bessie.  You  mustn’t  worry 
about  it.  Just  leave  it  to  me.  I ’in  sure  you’re 
telling  the  truth,  and  I’m  going  to  stick  by  you.” 


CHAPTER  XIV 


THE  TRUTH  AT  LAST 

But  Bessie,  despite  Mrs.  Chester’s  kind  words, 
was  terribly  downcast. 

“Really,  Mrs.  Chester,”  she  said  miserably, 
“it’s  awfully  unfair  to  make  all  the  other  girls 
suffer  on  account  of  me.” 

“You  mustn’t  look  at  it  that  way,  Bessie.  You 
couldn’t  tell  a lie,  you  know,  even  to  prevent  this 
trouble.  ’ ’ 

“No,  but  I’m  sure  he  thinks  I did  that.  He’s 
not  an  unkind  man,  and  he  really  doesn’t  want 
to  make  me  unhappy,  and  drive  you  all  away,  I 
know.  Mrs.  Chester,  won’t  you  send  me  away?” 

“Nonsense,  Bessie!  If  you  haven’t  done  any- 
thing wrong,  why  shouldn’t  we  stand  by  you? 
Even  if  you  had,  we’d  do  that,  and  we  ought  to 
do  it  all  the  more  when  you’re  in  the  right,  and 
unjustly  suspected.  Don’t  you  worry  about  it  a 
bit!  Everything  will  be  all  right.” 

“But  I really  think  you  ought  to  let  me  go-.  I’m 
just  a trouble  maker — I make  trouble  for  every- 
one ! If  it  hadn’t  been  for  me,  Jake  Hoover  would 
never  have  burnt  his  father’s  barn— don’t  you 
know  that?” 


149 


150 


THE  CAMP  PIPE  GIELS 


m 


“That  isn’t  so,  Bessie.  If  you  k»«La’t  keen 
there,  something  else  would  Imvo  k&ppa&sd.  And 
it’s  the  same  way.  here.  Ton  haven’t  anything  to 
do  with  alh  this  trouble -here.  It  would  have  come 
just  the  same  if  you  hadn’t  arrived  at  all,  I’m 
sure  of  that.  And  then  one  of  the  girls  would  have 
been  accused,  and  everything  would  have  hap- 
pened just  the  same.” 

‘ ‘ Oh,  I ’m  afraid  not ! ’ ’ 

“But  I’rn  sure  of  it,  Bessie,  and  I really  know 
better  than- you.  You  mustn’t  take  it  so  hard.  No 
one  is  going  to  blame  you.  Best  easy  about  that. 
I’ll  see  to  it  that  they  all  understand  just  how 
it  is.” 

‘ ‘ I wish  I could  believe  that ! ’ ’ 

Mrs.  Chester  told  Eleanor  what  General  Seeley 
had  said  as  soon  as  they  returned  to  the  camp, 
and  Eleanor,  after  a moment,  just  laughed. 

“Well,  it  can’t  be  helped,”  she  said.  “If  he 
wants  to  act  that  way,  we  can’t  stop  him,  can  we? 
And  I’m  so  glad  that  you’re  going  to  stick  by  poor 
Bessie.  I know  she  feels  as  had  as  she  can  feel 
about  it — and  it’s  so  fine  for  her  to  know  that  she  ■ 
really  has  some  friends  who  will  trust  her  and 
believe  her  at  last.  She’s  never  had  them  before.” 

“She  has  them  now,  Eleanor.  And  it’s  because 
you’re  so  fond  of  her  already  that  I’m  so  sure 
she’s  telling  the  truth.  I think  I’d  trust  her,  any- 
how, but,  even  if  I’d  never  seen  her,  I’d  take  your 
word.  ” 


IN  THE  WOODS 


151 


“Will  you  tell  all  the  girls  why  we’re  going? ” 

“I  think  not— just  at  first,  anyhow.  We.’il  just 
say  that  we  ’re  going  to  move  on.  I ’m  pretty  sure 
that  the  people  over  at  Pine  Bridge'  will  have 
some  place  where  we  can  make  camp,  and  that  we 
can  have  our  Council  Firs  to-night  just  the  same. 
It  won’t  be  as  nice  as  it  is  here,  of  course,  but 
we’ll  make  it  do,  somehow.” 

So  Mrs.  Chester  went  around  to  the  different 
Guardians  of  the  Camp  Fires,  and  told  them  of 
the  change  in  the  plans.  At  once  the  order  to 
strike  the  tents  and  pack  was  given,  and  then 
Mrs.  Chester  went  to  make  arrangements  for  car- 
rying the  baggage  over  to  Pine  Bridge  and  for 
getting  a camping  place  there. 

“I’ll  get  back  as  soon  as  I can,  Eleanor,”  die 
said,  “but  I may  be  delayed  in  finding  a cam  _g 
place.  If  I am,  I’ll  send  the  wagons  over— I don’t 
want  to  use  General  Seeley’s,  while  he’s  angry 
at  us.  And  you  can  take  charge  and  see  that 
everything  goes  as  it  should.  You’ll  just  take 
my  place.” 

“No  one  can  do  that,  Mrs.  Chester,  but  I’ll  do 
my  best.  ’ ’ 

Bessie,  forlorn  and  unhappy,  helped  in  the 
work  of  packing,  and  longed  for  someone  to  talk 
to.  She  didn’t  want  to  tell  Zara,  who  had  troubles 
enough  of  her  own  to  worry  her,  and  Eleanor,  of 
course,  was  too  busy,  with  all  the  work  of  seeing 
that  everything  was  done  properly.  She  had  to 


152 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  ' GIRLS 


keep  a watchful  eye  on  the  preparations  of  the 
other  Camp  Fires  as  well  as  of  her  own.  And 
then,  suddenly,  Bessie  got  a new  idea. 

“All  this  trouble  is  for  me,”  she  said.  “Sup- 
pose I weren’t  here— suppose  I just  went  away? 
Then  they  could  all  stay.” 

The  more  she  thought  of  that,  the  more  the 
idea  grew  upon  her. 

“I  will  do  that— I will!”  she  said  to  herself, 
with  sudden  determination.  “I’m  just  like  a sign 
of  bad  luck— I make  trouble  for  everyone  who’s 
good  to  me.  Like  Paw  Hoover!  He  was  always 
good— and  the  fire  hurt  him  more  than  it  did 
anyone  else,  though  it  was  Maw  Hoover  and  Jake 
who  made  all  my  trouble.  I won’t  stay  here  and 
let  them  sutler  for  me  any  longer.” 

And,  very  quietly,  since  she  wanted  no  one  to 
know  what  she  was  doing,  Bessie  went  into  the 
tent,  which  had  not  yet  been  taken  down,  and 
changed  from  the  blouse  and  skirt,  which  had 
been  lent  to  her,  into  the  old  dress  she  had  worn 
when  she  had  jumped  into  the  water  to  rescue 
•Minnehaha. 

Then,  moving  as  silently  and  as  cautiously  as 
she  could,  Bessie  slipped  into  the  woods  behind 
the  camp.  She  dared  not  go  the  other  way,  which 
was  the  direct  route  to  the  main  road  outside  of 
General  Seeley’s  estate,  because  she  knew  that  if 
any  of  the  girls,  or  one  of  the  Guardians  saw  her, 
she  would  be  stopped.  She  didn’t  know  the  way 


IN  THE  WOODS 


"by  the  direction  she  had  to  take,  but  she  was  sure 
that  she  could  find  it,  and  she  wasn’t  afraid.  Her 
one  idea  was  to  get  away  and  save  trouble  for 
the  others. 

Of  course,  if  Bessie  had  stopped  to  think,  she 
would  have  known  that  it  was  wrong  to  do  what 
she  planned.  But  her  aim  was  unselfish,  and  she 
didn  ’t  think  of  the  grief  and  anxiety  that  would 
follow  her  disappearance.  She  was  sensitive,  in 
any  case,  and  General  Seeley’s  stern  manner,  al- 
though he  had  not  really  meant  to  be  unkind,  had! 
upset  her  dreadfully.  > 

To  her  surprise,  the  woods  that  she  followed 
grew  very  thick.  And  she  was  still  more  sur- 
prised, presently,  to  come  upon  a wire  fence.  In 
such  woods,  it  seemed  very  strange  to  her.  Then, 
as  she  saw  a bird  with  a long,  brilliantly  colored 
tail  strutting  around  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence, 
she  suddenly  understood.  This  must  be  the  place 
where  the  precious  pheasants  she  was  supposed 
to  have  frightened  were  kept.  And  she  hadn’t 
even  known  where  they  were! 

Bessie  wondered,  as  she  looked  at  the  beautiful 
bird,  how  anyone  could  have  the  heart  to  frighten 
it,  or  any  like  it. 

“I  don’t  blame  General  Seeley  a hit  for  being 
angry  if  he  really  thought  I had  done  that,”  she 
said  to  herself.  “And  he  did,  of  course.  They 
don’t  know  anything  about  me,  really.  He  was 
quite  right-” 


154 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


Then  she  remembered,  too,  what  he  had  said 
about  the  game-keepers.  Probably,  after  what 
had  happened,  they  would  be  more  careful  than 
ever,  and  Bessie  decided  that  she  had  fetter  move 
along  as  fast  as  she  could,  lest  someone  find  her 
•imd  think  she  was  trying  to  get  at  the  birds  again. 

But,  anxious  as  she  was  to  get  away  from  the 
dangerous  neighborhood,  she  found  that,  to  move 
at  all,  she  had  to  stick  close  to  the  fence,  since  the 
; going  beyond  it  was  too  rough  for  her.  Then,, 
too,  as  she  went  along,  she  heard  strange  noises' 
— as  if  someone  was  moving  in  the  woods  near' 
Ler,  and  trying  not  to  make  a noise.  That  fright- 
ened and  puzzled  her,  so  she  moved  very  quietly 
herself,  anxious  to  find  out  who  it  was.  A wild 
thought  came  to  her,  too— perhaps  it  was  the  real 
poacher,  for  whom  she  had  been  mistaken,  that 
she  heard! 

Presently  the  fence  turned  out,  and  she  had  to 
circle  around,  following  it,  to  keep  to  the  straight 
path.  And,  as  the  fence  turned  in  again,  she  gave 
a sudden  gasping  little  cry,  that  she  had  the  great- 
est difficulty  in  choking  down,  lest  it  betray  her 
at  once. 

For  she  saw  a dark  figure  against  the  green 
background,  bending  over,  and  plucking  at  some- 
thing that  lay  on  the  ground. 

‘‘It  is!  It  really  is— the  poacher!”  she  whis- 
pered to  herself. 

She  longed  to  know  what  to  do.  There  was 


IN  THE  WOODS 


155 


no  way  of  telling  whether  there  was  anyone  about* 
If  she  lifted  her  voice  and  called  for  help,  it  might 
bring  a game-keeper  quickly — and  it  might  simply 
give  the  poacher  the  alarm,  and  enable  him  to 
escape,  leaving  the  evidence  of  the  crime  to  be 
turned  against  her.  And  this  time  no  one,  not 
even  Mrs.  Chester,  would  believe  in  her  innocence. 

Slowly  Bessie  crept  toward  the  crouching  fig- 
ure. At  least  she  would  try  to  see  his  face,  so 
that  she  would  recognize  him  again,  if  she  was 
lucky  enough  to  see  him.  For  Bessie  was  deter- 
mined that  some  time,  no  matter  how  far  in  the 
future,  she  would  clear  herself,  and  make  General 
Seeley  admit  that  he  had  wronged  her. 

And  then,  when  she  was  scarcely  ten  feet  from 
1 him,  she  stepped  on  a branch  that  crackled  under 
her  feet,  and  the  poacher  turned  and  faced  her, 
springing  to  his  feet.  Bessie  screamed  as  she  saw 
his  face,  for  it  was  her  old  enemy — Jake  Hoover! 

For  a moment  he  was  far  more  frightened  than 
she.  He  stared  at  her  stupidly.  Then  he  recog- 
nized her,  and  his  face  showed  his  evil  triumph. 

“Ah,  here,  are  yerf ” he  cried,  and  sprang  to- 
ward her,  his  hands  full  of  the  feathers  he  had 
plucked  from  the  tail  of  the  pheasant  he  had 
snared. 

That  move  was  Jake’s  fatal  mistake.  Had  he 
run  at  oa«e,  he  might  have  been  able  to  escape. 
But  new,  Bassae,  heave  ever,  sprang  to  meet 
him.  He  was  far  stronger  than  she,  hut  she  had 


156 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


seen  help  approaching— a man  in  velveteens,  and 
for  just  a moment  after  Jake,  too,  had  seen  the 
game-keeper,  Bessie  was  able  to  keep  him  from 
running.  She  clung  to  his  arms  and  legs,  and 
though  Jake  struck  at  her,  she  would  not  let  go. 
And  then,  just  in  time,  the  game-keeper’s  heavy 
hand  fell  on  Jake’s  shoulder. 

“So  you’re  the  poacher,  my  lad?”  he  said. 
“Well,  I’ve  caught  you  this  time,  dead  to  rights.” 

Squirm  and  wriggle  as  he  would,  Jake  couldn’t 
escape  now.  He  was  trapped  at  last,  and  for  once 
Bessie  saw  that  he  was  going  to  reap  the  reward 
of  his  evil  doing. 

The  game-keeper  lifted  a whistle  to  his  lips,, 
and  blew  a loud,  long  blast  upon  it.  In  a moment 
the  wood  filled  with  the  noise  of  men  approaching, 
and,  to  Bessie’s  delight,  she  saw  General  Seeley 
among  them. 

“What?  At  it  again?”  he  said,  angrily,  as  he 
saw  Bessie.  Jake  was  hidden  by  the  game-keeper, 
and  General  Seeley  thought  at  first  that  it  was 
Bessie  who  had  fallen  to  the  trap  he  had  set.  Bes- 
sie said  nothing — she  couldn’t. 

“No,  General.  It  wasn’t  the  girl,  after  all,” 
said  the  game-keeper.  “Never  did  seem  to  me  as 
if  it  could  be,  anyhow.  Here’s  the  lad  that  did  it 
all— and  I caught  him  in  the  act.  The  feathers 
are  all  over  him  still.” 

“It  wasn’t  me!  She  did  it!  I saw  her,  and  I 
took  the  feathers  from  her,”  wailed  Jake,  anxious. 


IN  THE  WOODS 


157 


as  ever,  to  escape  himself,  310  matter  how  many 
lies  he  had  to  tell,  or  who  had  to  suffer  for  his 
sins.  But  the  game-keeper  only  laughed  roughly. 

“That  won’t  do  you  no  good,  my  boy.  You’d 
better  own  up  and  take  your  medicine.  Here,  see 
this,  General.” 

He  plunged  his  hands  into  Jake’s  pockets,  and 
produced  the  wire  and  other  materials  Jake  hac 
used  in -making  his  snare. 

“I  guess  that’s  pretty  good  evidence,  ain’t  if . 

sir?” 

“It  is,  indeed,”  said  the  general,  grimly.  “Taka 
him  up  to  the  house,  Tyler.  I ’ll  attend  to  his  ease 
later.  Go  on,  now.  I want  to  talk  to  this  girl.” 

Then  he  turned  to  Bessie  and  took  off  7ms  hat. 

“I  was  wrong  and  you  were  right  this  morn- 
ing,” he  said,  pleasantly.  “I  want  to  apologize 
to  you,  Bessie.  And  I shall  try  to  make  up  to  you. 
for  having  treated  you  so  badly.  How  can  I do 
that?” 

“Oh,  there’s  nothing  to  make  up,  General,” 
said  Bessie,  tearfully.  “I’m  so  glad  you  know  I 
didn’t  do  that!” 

“But  what  are  you  doing  here — and  in  that 
dress  ? ’ ’ 

“I — I was  going  away — so  that  the  others  could 
stay.  ’ ’ 

“I  see— so  that  they  wouldn’t  have  to  suffer 
because  I was  so  brutally  unkind  to  you.  Well, 
you  come  with  me!  Why  didn’t  you  wear  the 


158 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


other  clothes,  though ? They’re  nicer  than  these.” 

“They’re  not  mine.  These  are  all  I have,  of 
my  own.” 

“Is  that  sol  Well,  yon  shall  have  the  best 
wardrobe  money  can  buy,  Bessie,  just  as  soon  as 
Mrs.  Chester  can  get  it  for  you.  I’ll  make  that 
my  present  to  you— as  a way  of  making  up, 
partly,  for  the  way  I behaved  to  you.  How  will 
you  like  that?” 

“That’s  awfully  good  of  you,  but  you  mustn’t 
— really,  you  mustn’t!” 

‘ ‘ I guess  I can  do  as  I like  with  my  own  money, 
Bessie.  And  I’m  going  to  be  one  of  your  friends 
— one  of  your  best  friends,  if  you’ll  let  me.  Will 
you  shake  hands,  to  show  that  you  don’t  bear  any 
hard,  feelings?” 

And  Bessie,  unable  to  speak,  held  out  her  hand. 

General  Seeley  wrung  it— then  he  started,  sud- 
denly. 

“Here,  here,  what  am  I thinking  of?”  he  said, 
briskly.  “I  must  find  Mrs.  Chester  and  ask  her 
to  forgive  me.  Do  you  think  she  will  do  it,  Bes- 
sie? Or  haven’t  you  known  her  long  enough ” 

“Why  should  she  forgive  you,  sir?  You  just 
thought  what  anyone  else  would  have  thought. 
What  I don’t  understand  is  why  she  was  willing 
to  believe  me.  She  didn’t  know  anything  about 
me—  ” 

“I’ll  tell  you  why,  Bessie.  It’s  because  she 
knows  human  nature,  and  I,  like  the  old  fool  I 


IN  THE  WOODS 


159 

am,  wouldn’t  acknowledge  it!  But  I’ve  learned 
my  lesson— I’ll  never  venture  to  disagree  with  her 
again.  And  I ’in  going  to  hunt  her  up  and  tell 
her  so.” 

So  Bessie,  as  happy  as  she  had  been  miserabie- 
a few  minutes  before,  went  with  the  general,  while 
he  looked  for  Mrs.  Chester.  She  returned  from 
Pine  Bridge  just  as  they  reached  the  camp,  ahd 
she  listened  to  General  Seeley’s  apologies  with 
smiling  eyes. 

“ I - knew  I was  right,”  was  all  she  said.  “And 
I’m  more  than  glad  that  the  real  culprit  was 
found.  But,  my  dear,  you  oughtn’t  to  have  tried 
to  leave  us  that  way.  It  wasn’t  your  fault,  and 
we  should  have  gone,  just  the  same,  and  we  would 
have  had  to  look  for  you  until  we  found  you. 
When  we  once  make  friends  of  anyone,  we  don’t 
let  them  get  away  from  us.  That  wouldn’t  be 
true  to  the  spirit  of  the  Camp  Fire— not  a bit 
of  it!” 

Then,  while  Bessie  changed  again  into  the 
clothes  Ayu  had  lent  her,  Mrs.  Chester  gave  the 
welcome  order  to  unpack,  and  explained  to  the 
Guardians  that  Bessie  was  cleared,  and  they  were 
going  to  stay  in  camp,  and  have  the  Council  Fire 
just  as  it  had  been  planned.  Everyone  was  de- 
lighted, Eleanor  Mercer  most  of  all,  because  she 
had  had  real  faith  in  Bessie,  and  it  was  a triumph 
for  her  to  know  that  her  faith  had  not  been  mis- 
placed. 


CHAPTER  XV 


THE  COUNCIL,  EIRE 

The  girls  of  the  Manasquan  Camp  Fire  did 
little  that  day  except  to  cook  their  meals  and  keep 
the  camp  in  order.  The  order  to  unpack  had  come, 
fortunately,  in  time  to  save  a lot  of  trouble,  since 
very  little  had  been  done  toward  preparing  to 
move,  and,  when  it  was  all  over,  Eleanor  called 
the  girls  together,  and  told  them  just  what  had 
happened. 

“There  is  a fine  lesson  for  all  of  us  in  that,” 
she  said.  “If  Bessie  had  been  weak,  she  might 
very  well  have  been  tempted  to  say  what  General 
Seeley  wanted  her  to  say.  She  knew  she  hadn’t 
done  anything  wrong — and  she  said  so.  But  she 
was  told  that  if  she  would  confess  she  wouldn’t 
be  punished,  or  even  scolded,  and  still  she  would 
not  do  it,  even  when  she  found  that  it  meant 
trouble  for  her  and  for  us.  And,  you  see,  she 
earned  the  reward  of  doing  the  right  thing,  for  the 
truth  came  out.  And  it  will  happen  that  way  most 
of  the  time— ninety-nine  times  out  of  a hundred, 
I believe.” 

“I  should  think  you’d  he  perfectly  furious  at 
Jake  Hoover,  Bessie,”  said  Zara.  “He  makes 

160 


\ 

IN  THE  WOODS  161 

trouble  for  you  all  the  time.  Here  he  got  you 
blamed  for  something  he’d  done  again,  and 
nearly  spoiled  things  just  when  they  were  begin- 
ning to  look  better.” 

“But  he  didn’t  know  that,  Zara.  He  did  some- 
thing wrong,  but  he  couldn’t  have  known  that  I 
was  going  to  be  blamed  for  it,  you  know.” 

“Aren’t  you  angry  at  him  at  all?” 

“Yes,  for  killing  that  beautiful  bird  with  hia» 
horrid  snare.  But  I’m  sorry  for  him,  too.  I 
think  he  didn’t  know  any  better.” 

“What  will  happen  to  him,  do  you  think, 
Bessie?  Will  he  be  sent  to  prison?” 

“I  don’t  believe  so.  General  Seeley  is  a kind 
man,  and  I think  he’ll  try  to  make  Jake  under- 
stand how  wrong  it  was  to  act  so,  and  send  him 
home.  I certainly  hope  so.” 

“I  don’t  see  why.  I should  think  you’d  want 
him  to.  be  punished.  He’s  done  so  many  mean 
things  without  being  found  out  that  when  he  is 
caught,  he  ought  to  get  what  he  deserves.” 

“But  it  wouldn’t  be  punishing  just  him,  you 
see,  Zara.  It  would  be  hard  for  Paw  Hoover,  too, 
and  you  know  how  good  he  was  to  us.  If  it  hadn ’t 
been  for  him  I don’t  believe  we’d  ever  have  got 
to  Pine  Bridge  at  all.” 

“Yes,  that’s  so.  He  was  good  to  us,  Bessie.  I’d 
like  to  see  him  again,  and  tell  him  so.  But  I can’t 
—not  if  Farmer  Weeks  can  get  me  if  I ever  go 
back  into  that  state.” 


162 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“There’s  another  thing  to  think  of,  too,  Zara, 
about  Jake.  He’s  more  likely  to  be  found  out 
now,  when  he  does  something  wrong.” 

“Gh,  yes,  that’s  true,  isn’t  it?  I hadn’t  thought 
of  that.  He  won’t  be  able  to  make  Maw  Hoover 
think  you  did  everything  now,  when  you’re  not 
there,  will  he?” 

“That’s  just  what  I mean.  And  maybe,  when 
she  finds  that  the  things  she  used  to  blame  me  for 
keep  on  happening  just  the  same,  though  I’m  not 
there,  she’ll  see  that  I never  did  do  them  at  all. 
It  looked  pretty  bad  for  me  this  morning,  Zara, 
but  you  see  it  came  out  all  right.  And  I’m  begin- 
ning to  think  now' that  other  things  will  turn  out 
right,  too,  just  as  Miss  Eleanor’s  been  saying 
they  would.” 

“Oh,  I do  hope  so!  There’s  Miss  Eleanor 
coming  now.” 

“Well,  girls,  have  you  chosen  your  fire  names 
yet?”  asked  the  Guardian.  “You’ll  have  to  be 
ready  to  tell  us  to-night  at  the  big  fire  you  know, 
when  you  get  your  rings.” 

“Why,  I hadn’t  thought  about  it,  even.  Had 
you,  Zara?” 

“Yes,  I had.  I think  I’d  like  to  be  called  by  a 
name  that  would,  make  people  think  of  being 
happy  and  cheerful.  Is  there  an  Indian  word  that 
would  do  that?” 

“Perhaps.  But  why  don’t  you  make  up  a new 
word  for  yourself,  as  we  made  up  Wo-he-lo?  You 


IN  THE  WOODS 


163 


could  take  the  first  letters  of  happy  and  cheerful, 
and  call  yourself  Iiachee.  That  sounds  like  an 
Indian  word,  though  it  really  isn’t.  And  what 
for  a symbol?” 

‘ ‘ I think  a chipmunk  is  the  happiest,  cheerf ulest 
thing  I know.” 

“That’s  splendid!  You  can  be  Hachee,  and 
your  symbol  shall  be  the  chipmunk.  You’ve  done 
well,  Zara.  I don’t  think  you’ll  ever  want  to  burn 
your  name.” 

“What  is  that?  Burning  one’s  name?”  in- 
quired Zara. 

“Sometimes  a girl  chooses  a name  and  later 
she  doesn’t  like  it.  Then,  at  a Council  Fire,  she 
writes  that  name,  the  one  she  wants  to  give  up, 
on  a slip  of  paper,  and  it’s  thrown  into  the  fire. 
And  after  that  she  is  never  called  by  it  again.” 

“Oh,  I see.  No,  I like  my  new  name  and  I’ll 
want  to  keep  that,  I know.” 

“I’ve  always  liked  the  name  of  Stella— that 
means  a star,  doesn’t  it?— so  that  my  name  and 
my  symbol  could  be  the  same,  if  I took  that.” 

“Yes,  Bessie.  That’s  a good  choice,  too.  You 
shall  be  Stella,  when  we  are  using  the  ceremonial 
names.  Well,  that’s  settled,  then.  You  must  learn 
to  repeat  the  Wood-Gatherer’s  desire  to-night — 
and  after  that  you  will  get  your  rings,  and  then 
you  will  be  real  Camp  Fire  Girls,  like  the  rest 
of  us.” 

Then  she  left  them,  because  there  was  much  for 


164 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


Iier  to  do,  and  that  afternoon  Bessie  and  Zara 
made  very  sure  that  they  knew  the  Wood-Gath- 
erer’s desire,  and  learned  all  that  the  other  girls 
sonld  tell  them  about  the  law  of  the  fire,  and  all 
the  other  things  they  wanted  to  know.  But  they 
waited  anxiously  for  it  to  he  time  to  light  the 
great  Council  Fire. 

All  afternoon  the  Wood-Gatherers  worked, 
gathering  the  fagots  for  the  fire,  and  arranging 
them  neatly.  They  were  built  up  so  that  there 
was  a good  space  for  a draught  under  the  wood, 
in  order  that  the  fire,  once  it  was  lighted,  might 
burn  clear  and  bright.  A cloudless  summer  sky 
gave  promise  of  a beautiful  starlit  night,  so  that 
there  was  no  danger  of  a repetition  of  the  disap- 
pointment of  the  previous  night— which,  however, 
everyone  had  already  forgotten. 

After  supper,  when  it  was  quite  dark,  the  space 
around  the  pile  was  left  empty.  Then  Mrs.  Ches- 
ter, in  her  ceremonial  Indian  robes,  stood  up  in 
the  centre,  near  the  fire,  and  one  by  one  the 
different  Camp  Fires,  led  by  their  Guardians, 
came  in.  singing  slowly. 

As  each  girl  passed  before  her,  Mrs.  Chester 
made  the  sign  of  the  Fire,  by  raising  her  right 
hand  slowly,  in  a sweeping  gesture,  after  first 
crossing  its  fingers  against  those  of  the  left  hand. 
Each  girl  returned  the  sign  and  then  passed  to 
her  place  in  the  great  circle  about  the  fagots, 
where  she  sat  down. 


IN  THE  WOODS 


165 


When  all  the  girls  were  seated,  Mrs.  Chester 
spoke. 

“The  Manasquan  Camp  Fire  has  the  honor  cf 
lighting  our  Council  Fire  to-night,  ’ J she  said 
“Ayu!” 

And  Ayu  stepped  forward.  She  had  with  her 
the  simple  tools  that  are  required  for  making  fire 
in  the  Indian  fashion.  It  is  not  enough,  as  some 
people  believe,  to  rub  two  sticks  together,  and 
Bessie  and  Zara,  who  had  never  seen  this  trick 
played  before,  watched  her  with  great  interest. 
Ayu  had,  first,  a block  of  wood,  not  very  thick, 
in  which  a notch  had  been  cut.  In  this  notch 
she  rested  a long,  thin  stick,  and  on  top  of  that 
was  a small  piece  of  wood,  in  which  the  stick  or 
drill  rested.  And,  last  of  all,  she  had  a bow,  with 
a leather  thong,  which  was  slipped  around  the 
drill. 

When  everything  was  ready  Ayu,  holding  down 
the  fire  block  with  one  foot,  held  the  socket  of  the 
drill  with  the  left  hand,  while  with  the  right  she 
drew  the  bow  rapidly  back  and  forth.  In  less 
than  a minute  there  was  a tiny  spark.  Then 
rapidly  growing,  flame  appeared  and  a moment 
later,  along  the  carefully  prepared  tinder,  the  fire 
ran  to  the  kindling  beneath  the  fagots.  And  then, 
as  the  flames  rose  and  began  to  curl  about  the 
fagots  all  the  girls  began  to  sing  together  the 
Camp  Fire  Girl  Ode  to  Fire: 


166 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


“Oh  Fire! 

Long  years  ago  when  our  fathers  fought  with 
great  animals  you  were  their  protection. 
From  the  cruel  cold  of  winter  y ou  saved  them. 
When  they  needed  food  you  changed  the  flesh  of 
beasts  into  savory  food  for  them. 

During  all  the  ages  your  mysterious  flame  has  been 
a symbol  to  them  for  Spirit. 

So  to-night  we  light  our  fire  in  remembrance  of 
the  Great  Spirit  who  gave  you  to  us.” 

Then  each  Guardian  called  the  roll  of  her  Camp 
Fire,  and  as  each  girl ’s  ceremonial  name  was 
-called  she  answered,  “Kolah!” 

“That  means  friend someone  whispered  to 
Bessie  and  Zara. 

“We  are  to  receive  two  new  members  to- 
night,” said  Mrs.  Chester,  then.  “Wanaka,  they 
come  in  your  Camp  Fire.  Will  you  initiate  them 
into  the  Camp  Fire  circle?” 

Then  she  sat  down,  and  Wanaka  took  her  place 
in  the  centre.  Bessie  and  Zara  understood  that 
it  was  time  for  them  to  step  forward,  and  they 
stood  out  in  the  dancing  light  of  the  fire,  which 
was  roaring  up  now,  and  casting  its  light  into  the 
shadows  about  the  circle.  All  the  girls  stood  up. 

Bessie  came  first,  and  Wanaka  turned  to  her. 

“Is  it  your  desire  to  become  a Camp  Fire  Girl 
and  follow  the  law  of  the  Fire?” 

And  Bessie,  who  had  been  taught  the  form  to 
be  followed,  answered: 


IN  THE  WOODS 


167 


“It  is  my  desire  to  become  a Camp  Fire  Girl 
and  to  obey  the  law  of  the  Camp  Fire,  which  is  to 
Seek  Beauty,  Give  Service,  Pursue  Knowledge, 
Be  Trustworthy,  Hold  on  to  Health,  Glorify 
Work,  Be  Happy.  This  law  of  the  Camp  Fire  I 
will  strive  to  follow.” 

Then  she  held  out  her  left  hand,  and  Eleanor 
took  it,  saying:  ) 

“In  the  name  of  the  Camp  Fire  Girls  of  Amer- 
ica, I place  on  the  little  finger  of  your  left  hand 
this  ring,  with  its  design  of  seven  fagots,  sym- 
bolic of  the  seven  points  of  the  law  of  the  Fire, 
which  you  have  expressed  your  desire  to  follow, 
and  of  the  three  circles  on  either  side,  symbolic 
of  the  three  watchwords  of  this  organization— 
W ork,  Health,  and  Love.  And— 

“As  fagots  are  brought  from  the  forest 
Firmly  held  by  the  sinews  which  bind  them, 

So  cleave  to  these  others,  your  sisters, 
Wherever,  whenever,  you  find  them. 

“Be  strong  as  the  fagots  are  sturdy; 

Be  pure  in  your  deepest  desire ; 

Be  true  to  the  truth  that  is  in  you; 

And— follow  the  law  of  the  Fire.” 

Then,  as  Bessie,  or  Stella,  as,  at  the  Council 
Fire  she  was  to  be  known  thereafter,  made  her 
way  back  to  her  place,  all  the  girls  sang  the  Wb- 
he-lo  song  by  way  of  welcoming  her  as-  one  of 
them. 


168 


THE  CAMP  FIRE  GIRLS 


Then  it  was  Zara’s  turn,  and  the  same  beautiful 
ceremony  was  repeated  for  her. 

“Now  the  Snug  Harbor  Camp  Fire  is  going  to 
entertain  us  with  some  new  Indian  dances  they 
have  learned,”  said  Mrs.  Chester.  “I  am  sure 
we  will  all  enjoy  that.” 

And  they  did.  No  Indian  girls  ever  danced 
with  the  grace  and  beauty  that  those  young  Amer- 
ican girls  put  into  their  interpretation  of  the  old- 
fashioned  dances,  which  made  all  the  other  Camp 
Fires  determine  to  try  to  learn  them,  too.  And 
after  that  there  was  a talk  from  Mrs.  Chester  on 
the  purpose  of  the  organization.  Then,  finally, 
taps  sounded,  and  the  Council  Fire  was  over. 

“So  you  really  are  Camp  Fire  Girls,”  said 
Eleanor,  to  the  two  new  members.  “Soon  we 
shall  be  back  in  the  city  and  there  I am  sure  that 
many  things  will  happen  to  you.  Some  of  them 
will  be  hard,  but  you  will  get  through  them  all 
right.  And  remember  we  mean  to  help  you,  no 
matter  what  happens.  Zara  shall  have  her  father 
back,  and  we  will  do  all  we  can,  Bessie,  to  help 
you  find  your  parents.  Good-night!” 
“Good-night!” 


Billy  W hiskers  Series 


BY 

FRANCES  TREGO  MONTGOMERY 

Billy  Whiskers  — frolicsome,  mischief -making,  adven- 
ture-loving Billy  Whiskers  — is  the  friend  of  every  boy  and 
girl  the  country  over,  and  the  things  that  happen  to  this 
wonderful  goat  and  his  numerous  animal  friends  make  the 
best  sort  of  reading  for  them. 

As  one  reviev/er  aptly  puts  it,  these  stories  are  1 1 just 
full  of  fun  and  good  times,”  for  Mrs.  Montgomery,  the 
author  of  them,  has  the  happy  faculty  of  knowing  what  the 
small  bey  and  his  sister  like  in  the  way  of  fiction, 

TITLES 

BILLY  WHISKERS  BILLY  WHISKERS’  GRANDCHILDREN 

BILLY  WHISKERS’  KIDS  BILLY  WHISKERS’  VACATION 

BILLY  WHISKERS,  JR. ' BILLY  WHISKERS  KIDNAPED 

BILLY  WHISKERS’  TRAVELS  BILLY  WHISKERS’  TWINS 

BILLY  WHISKERS  AT  THE  CIRCUS  BILLY  WHISKERS  IN  AS  AEROPLANE 

BILLY  WHISKERS  AT  THE  FAIR  BILLY  WHISKERS  IN  TOWN 

BILLY  WHISKERS’  FRIENDS  BILLY  WHISKERS  IN  PANAMA 

BILLY  WHISKERS,  JR.  AND  HIS  CHUMS 

Each  Volume  a Quarto,  Bound  in  Boards,  Cover  and  Six 

Full  Page  Drawings  in  Colors,  Postpaid  Price  $1.00 

The  Saalfield  Publishing  Co.,  Akron,  Ohio 


